Scrape

The scrape of the branches against the window had ceased to irritate him, blending into little more than background noise. He only looked up for the clattering at the back gate, jolting as the bin struck the side of the house. He looked at the window, debating even getting up from his desk. But the thought of the bin lid rattling around out there and what damage it might do sent him rushing to the back door, yanking it open and bracing against the expected gale.

There was nothing but stillnes...