Pounding on the Door
Car doors slammed shut almost simultaneously, echoing in the crisp afternoon air. Mark and Sarah sprinted across the lawn, ignoring the icy patches on the walkway in their haste.
They reached the porch in seconds, their faces flushed from both the cold and adrenaline. Fist after fist hammered against the solid wood of my front door.
The heavy thuds vibrated the floorboards beneath my feet, signaling that they were not going to leave without a fight.