[ WP ] Every night , as long as you have lived there , a man stands under the streetlight outside your window and leaves in cab 302 . One night the man does not come . Instead there is a letter addressed to you telling you to be in the in that spot , at the exact time , and leave in cab 302 .

“ Where are we going? ” I asked. The old cab rattled stiffly through the icy Montclair night. 
 
 “ Shut up, ” said the cabby. “ Shut the fuck up. ” He sounded stressed, scared even. He leaned over and tossed a bundle of cloth onto the backseat. 
 
 “ Put it on. ” 
 
 I held the fabric up in the moonlight. It was a long, beige coat, tattered in some places. I ’ d seen it before. 
 
 A crumpled, black fedora fell down onto my lap. I picked it up, but withdrew my hand when I felt the damp inside. A passing headlight shown brightly against my palm. 
 
 Blood. 
 
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 *If you'll play my game, keep going -- each post 100 words or less* 

