awoke to snow. waited at the stop for a time, noticed with some pleasure the white beauty of what would otherwise been a gray morning. not as cold as the previous week, despite the lovely seven days blue. on the bus, round the cow-clad corner, then stopped just long enough to witness a little birthday through the window, six employees gathered round one, cake and candlefire then blown, applause, and we roll on. later, a woman steps off the bus, hesitates in tiny panic, calling out for her lost glove. i turn behind, just in time to see fourteen riders lean forward in unison, all searching and sleepy eyed, each determined to be the fifteen second hero. over the bridge, and the snow is absent from the warm downtown city streets, sewers, sidewalks. down, down past the ziggurat of knowledge, the tower of protest, to the stop of ben. i pause on the corner, taking in the cold air, hooded and green overcoat, mask over disguise over mirror, happy in this moment, however short, however fleet of foot.

your contributions have been noted. i will count slowly down from ten. can you feel anything when i do this? both terrible and wonderful. we’re closing our borders but opening our hearts. unto the fourth generation. this is the same sort of nonsense we’ve become accustomed to from the likes of you. our profound disappointment is matched only by our deep distrust. please have your desk cleared by midday.