The Snow in the City
Oh God, it snowed, thought Will Tomlinson, as he looked out from his apartment's frost-encrusted window. How he hated snow in the city.
In the sticks, where he had grown up, snow was different: it always looked like something out of a Currier & Ives print, like a white bedspread that belonged there, covering the sleeping fields and hibernating trees. But snow in the city was an alien presence, he knew, having already survived two winters in this Northeastern metropolis. It was a physical intrusion, one that filled up precious space with something outrageously impractical, even dang…
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