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?