Second entry
He stood, staring at the back of his door, hands hanging by his sides, waiting. But he did not know what he waited for. It had been several days since he had gone to the general store last. There were supplies left, but not many. Surely he could wait another day, perhaps two. Or at least wait until night, when he was less likely to be seen.
But he stood there, staring at the door that he had built with his own two hands. Hands...
He raised his and looked at them as if he had never seen them before. They were old hands, hardened by years of honest labor. Scarred by a few scuffles, and a few accidents at the tannery. His fingers flexed, as if of their own accord, seeming it say "See us. We still work. Let us do our job. We were not meant to be idle." He nodded slightly, hearing them.
So he took a step towards the door, then stopped again. He thought about what was outside. In his mind's eye, he could see the entire village. Each and every house; those that had been there before he was born, and those that had been built since then, many of which he had helped raise himself. But he had not seen them, at least not by daylight, in over a year. Could it really have been that long? When was the last time he saw another person? Heard another's voice? Or even heard evidence of another person's presence? What if the town was abandoned? What if he was all that was left? He had to know.
He straightened up, his shoulders back and head held high, then he reached out and touched the door handle.