Joe looked into the mirror, where his own reflection stared back at him. It was dark; his face was illuminated only by a faint ray of moonlight which seeped through the window. He cursed it – the light only accentuated his features even more; short, rugged cheekbones, scruffy hair, deep-set ashen eyes – and worst of all his cracked, unsightly skin. Not wanting to look upon the disfigured being any longer, he looked away, and made towards the door.
Today was the day he would go outside. Him, outside! He would deliver his letter, even if it killed him. No longer would he be forced to hide away in his house, he had as much right as any man to go about his business. He slipped on his coat, and walked out into the outside world.

‘Huh?!’

Suddenly Joe was knocked back as he felt something strike his head.

‘Filthy leper, get back.’

The cries came from down the road. There stood a group of people, some of whom were wielding a handful of stones. Joe shot to his feet, and retreated to the safety of his house.