Heavy snow melted into growing pools in Anthony’s wake. Their path led from where he stood at the window, across his spartan living room, through the door, down the hall, past the resident assistant’s lobby desk, and out into the blizzard where his taxi was pulling away for safer harbors. He’d made it fourteen blocks before the airport was declared closed. In the hour it took for the driver to get him back to Anderson Hall word was that it would be at least a day, maybe two, before air travel resumed. Monstrous snowflakes fell ponderously behind his reflection in his dorm room window. The clichéd line from too many holiday specials floated through his mind.