-Brisk Walk-

A young couple is crossing the street with me in a cold twilight. The girl has a thin coat, no gloves, and no hat. She's making low hhuh-hhuh-hhuh shivering noises. A thoroughly soused trio of lightly-dressed college girls leave the corner bar and cross back the way we came. All of them are talking at once, all loud, but one's voice rises above the rest.

"I'm not even cold!"

To my left I hear the first girl whisper: "Sshut-up, you drunk bitch."

And no one laughed louder in the gloom. It was that kind of night.