An east orange-pink swells beneath the gray clouds. The cardinal is singing again in Mary's backyard. Buckets of newspaper and pop cans stake out the houses. A white squirrel eats under the bird feeder.
It is colder than it was yesterday. The sidewalks are a little clearer. Gray-haired women are getting their hair done, early. Sandwich bread is delivered to the deli. The air smells like cinnamon rolls and roasting coffee.
The dogs are barking. A Volvo stops to let me pass. A note is stuck to the icy ground, directions with "I love you" at the bottom. I think I know whose it is.