[ WP ] It 's been 48 hours , and the sun still has n't risen .

It's not just that the Sun is missing. 
 
 That would be bad enough on its own, right? The old and trusty ball of flames gone missing somewhere across the Pacific ocean. Yes, that's a big problem right there. 
 
 Not the worst one we have right now, though. 
 
 I glance at the clock on the bookshelf. It's been six hours now. Six hours since my brother-in-law left to get some supplies at the local mall. Water, food, batteries... My wife is looking out the window, her eyes straining to see something in the darkness outside. I doubt he'll be coming back, but I keep my mouth shut. 
 
 No. The worst problem... the one that makes my hands tremble and my chest get tight is that... I think it's getting darker. 
 
 I know it because of the streetlights. I've been counting them over and over again for the last hours. I know that, back when my brother-in-law left, I could see all the streetlights up to the Fowlers house. Nine. Nine streetlights. 
 
 I can only see three of them now. And the third is barely visible. A faint bright point floating in the darkness, as if enveloped by a black fog. 
 
 I hope the Fowlers are safe. 
 
 I place my gun, a Glock 19, on the side table next to the couch. It makes me feel safer, though I suspect it wo n't make much of a difference if... whatever... gets in. Better not to think about it. 
 
 We stay in silence, listening to the soft static crackling coming from the TV. White noise, that's all there is to see now. It's a relief, after all the noise, speculation and babbling idiot hosts from the first hours. 
 
 Three hours ago, I went outside. I had to let our dog, Zoey, back inside. That was back when I could still see up to the sixth streetlight. I grabbed my Glock, opened the main door, and stepped out into the darkness. 
 
 It was... strange. Not nearly as cold as I had expected, but there was a thickness to the air. Walking through it made me feel as if my feet were submerged in water. Sounds were muffled, and it was hard to breathe. Exhaustion started building up as soon as I had taken four steps out. 
 
 When I got back, I realized there were thin tendrils of dark mist starting to creep into the house. I made sure to close every window and door, placed towels in every cracks. 
 
 I did n't find Zoey. 
 
 I glance at my wife. Her face is pale. I follow her gaze out the window. 
 
 Only two streetlights now.
