By the time Herz had maneuvered his swollen feet into a pair of frayed slippers and padded to the window early that Friday morning, between three and four inches of snow had fallen. “Damn! Damn! Damn!” he said, each time slamming his fist against the windowsill. For a while he remained standing there, glowering at the scene six stories below, until the relentless ringing of his phone finally pulled him away.
“Good morning, Jake dear,” said the familiar voice of the widow in the apartment below his. “Everything under control?”
“Anita, do you know what time it is?”
“Yes, I know what time it is. I’m just calling to find out if you’re okay.”
“What should be wrong?”
“What should be wrong? It’s snowing like crazy.”
“So I see.”
“They’re predicting a major blizzard.”
“Did you call to give me the weather report?”
“My, aren’t we grumpy this morning. It looks bad. Is there anything you need?”
“Thanks. I’ve got plenty of everything. He paused before adding, “Including toilet paper.”
“Very funny.”
“Please don’t worry about me.”
“I hope you’re not planning to do your thing tonight.”
“My thing?” he repeated derisively. “Why not?”
“Because driving will be treacherous. Plus you’ll catch your death of a cold.”
“Anita, I’ve been doing my thing, as you call it,...
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