A
dusting of snow fell last night while nobody was looking. In the morning
you had to decide: Were those windshields clear yesterday? I suppose
they were.
The
Seventh Street crossing guard hasn’t been at her post lately. This
morning I wondered: Does she stay home when it gets too cold? Did she
get sick of it all and quit? Was she fired for letting someone walk
against the light? Does she have pancreatic cancer? Has she
coincidentally been on her cigarette break every time Jackie and I walk
by? Or is she stationed at Sixth Street now?
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