Fog

This is just an idea for the beginning of a story I've been thinking about for a while. Obviously, there will be more to it in time. The idea here is to see how early in the story I can develop the personalities of characters. Thanks for reading!
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"Who could be knocking at this hour?" Peter addressed the darkness as he reached to turn on the bedside lamp. He squinted at the alarm clock until the bright red 6:00 AM came into focus.

"What is it honey?" Jessica pulled her head off her pillow and blinked some of the sleepiness out of her eyes. "Who could it be?" She wondered, as the noise permeated the bedroom, obviously originating at the cottage's front door. "And this early in the morning."
Peter was already pulling on his robe and moving toward the living room windows. He pulled the curtain back a couple of inches and peered at the front porch. "Some guy out there. Better not be selling anything. Looks like a drifter. I don't see a car." By now Jessica was up and leaning on the bedroom doorway, holding her robe shut with arms crossed against her chest.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," the man on the cottage doorstep said. "I'm lost."

Peter Colton tried to clear his thoughts. It was an hour before his usual wake time. He stared groggily at the man, not sure of what to say. That was unusual for Peter; As the family doctor for the nearby town of Ochopee, on the Eastern bank of Lake Okechobee, in the Florida Everglades, he always had the answers. After all, Peter was the local-boy-made-good; Going to Miami for college and medical school, and then returning with big city knowledge to help the people he grew up with. Or maybe he couldn't face the intensity of city life and a high-power medical practice. Maybe the lure of a slow-paced, small town lifestyle, its familiarity cradling his soul like a warm sweater on an overcast day, was less of a force than was the repulsion of the aggressive and stressful city lifestyle that had been poised to suffocate him.

Peter had to recover from his half-asleep state and collect individual thoughts as they awakened one-by-one. The stranger who had found his way to this remote lake-front cottage stood there, patiently awaiting a response. He looked about forty, and was very thin. Loose, dark, curly hair protruded in unruly angles behind a receding frontal hairline. His deep brown eyes had a slight bulge, so that a thin rim of white sclera was visible all the way around, imparting a persistent stare to his gaze. He had about two days of beard growth, and he wore blue jeans and a thin plaid flannel shirt, both looking a size too big. Every so often, the man would reach down, grab an empty belt loop, and hike up his jeans, almost automatically, like he'd been doing it for a long time. His worn high-top hiking shoes showed a lot of distance, and the left one's missing laces had been replaced by a length of twine.

"So can ‘ya help me?" The man finally spoke since Peter didn't. "Like I said - I'm lost."

"Where are you trying to get to?" Peter's voice cracked as his first words of the day caught in his throat.

"Nowhere in particular."

"Then how can you be lost?"

The man actually chuckled. "No, what I mean is, I don't know where I am. I was hitching down to the Keys. This real thick fog bank came up and - I just got lost. I mean, I lost track of direction. I walked all night without being able to see anything. And after it cleared I found your place." The man swept his arm through the air as he motioned to the cottage. The pungency of the man's odor testified to the rigor of his strenuous voyage.

"Who the hell is bothering us at this time of morning?" Jessica called from inside the cottage.

"I got it," Pete yelled back over his shoulder, and then turned his attention back to the visitor. "Great, you woke up my wife."

The two tired men stared at each other.

"Caloosa's about five miles down that road." Peter had re-adopted the airy Florida cracker drawl that was pervasive around the big lake. Without pausing for a response he pointed toward the narrow gravel road leading off his property.

"I don't see any fog," Peter said, instantly sorry he had entered into a conversation with the stranger.

"It was there man, and really thick. Never seen anything like it. I'm telling you, it was scary."

"Well then, I'm glad it lifted. Have fun in the Keys," Peter said as he took a step backwards and began to close the door.

"Wait," the man stopped the door with his hand. "I hate to ask, but I've been traveling for a long time. I don't want to go back out into the fog. How ‘bout you let me rest. I could use some food too."

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