of the Sheep

Snow falls in heavy, large flakes, coating union square in thick layers and everyone scatters indoors. You while away the hours with movies and coffee refills, try not think past the end of the storm. The clock counts down minutes, it seems to accelerate at breakneck speed. Unanswered questions lie scattered along the wayside as you race past, trying to figure out which devil will deal you more of the time you are looking for. The city grows slippery with sleet. 

The rest of you follows suit.