Joe woke up all of a sudden, looked out of the window, and it was snowing. The light kind, that floats in the air almost suspending time. It was scarce, at the moment, with a few flakes here and there. He yawned, stretched, and lifted his torso just enough to actually see outside.
As he suspected, the silent night was due to heavy snow fall. The fields were covered in pure white, reflecting the sun in all of it's splendour. There were no traces of neither animals nor people. Everyone, in both man and animal kingdom, was probably still asleep. It was very early morning, and he didn't know why he woke up. For a split second he thought he knew what he was dreaming, but immediately forgot again. He hated forgetting dreams. He lived through them thoroughly, and all feelings and emotions lingered in the aftermath, sometimes remaining for weeks on his brain. But he could not remember any details, and this hunted him. He was convinced those dreams meant something, that some important messages were being delivered in a clear fashion, and that he had to follow up on them. And, somehow, his life was about pursuing those unknowns.
Some noise came from the kitchen, alongside the smell of strong coffee. The house was at the edge of a forest filled with tall oaks and troublesome wolves, on the only small hill for miles and miles. It was next to the landing strip where Joe had crash landed just the day before. He stood up, walked past the sturdy door, and continued down the hall. The wooden floor was immaculate, bearing the weight of his steps with no cracking sounds. Joe thought to himself he had to find who build the house. Cracking sounds were unnerving, and he suddenly realised he had heard none since going to bed. Even if the wine had been too much, he would still have been annoyed had there been popping from furniture or ghosts. However, he didn't remember drinking too much. From the moment he stepped into the house, he felt at home, comfortable, and reassured.
"Good morning, gentleman, how are you feeling today?" said a woman's voice.
"Very well indeed", answered Joe. "I am terribly sorry, I do not recall your name."
"No need to be sorry. I do not recall yours. Have a seat. Coffee is ready. Bread will probably not be delivered today, but we had foreseen that, and will put some loafs on the toaster."
Joe noticed the woman did not make a point about knowing his name, and that neither she seemed interest in telling him hers. But somehow, somewhat, it didn't seem to matter.
He definitely felt at home.
