He had to fight the wind as he pushed through the revolving doors that separated the outside from the inside. The quick pace he usually walked at was carried out in double time. When he made it to the stairs that led down to the subway his cheekbones already ached from the cold.
The train was packed--standing room only for . . .
Walking through the revolving door he dragged his feet to remove the snow. It was coming down a bit too hard to finish his pipe so his walk had been cut short. He waved at the doorman and took the elevator in the opposite direction of the falling snow.
He was a touch out of sorts. The week had drifted by without much . . .