walking

The bus slowly pulled up to a bus stop after plowing its way through the freshly accumulated piles of snow and leaving deep tire grooves behind. The doors slowly opened, and a man carefully stepped off the rubberized steps onto the snow covered ground, making sure not to get snow inside his boots and cringing as cold winter air stung and pinched his face. He was in his early 40's, wearing a long dark gray wool coat that has seen its better days and a crumpled up black fedora that he pulled down almost to his nose. In his hand he had a black tattered leather briefcase with a large brass combination lock on the front. His attire, combined with a raised collar and a tucked in head, could have made him resemble a character out of 40's film noir, perhaps a spy or a secret agent, except for his miserable demeanor and less than glamorous walk. As the bus closed its doors and moved on like a steel dinosaur, huffing, puffing and plowing through more snow, the man looked around, as if adjusting to his new condition of being completely alone in this winter vastness, and started walking. He was stooping, cringing, and dragging his feet through the resisting snow in what seemed to be enormous amount of effort. He continued on his way down a what used to be an alley and now was only recognizeable by the trees orderly arranged on each side, until he finally reached a gray concrete apartement building. It was industrial and depressive looking, with faded graffiti on a peeling wall and dark stains from fire still shading several top windows, making them look like ominous gaping mouths, especially on the background of this whiteness. He hesitated for a moment, and then turned a knob on a rusty greenish metal door with chipped paint all over it, entering the bowels of this architectural monstrosity. The door started to slowly close, screeching like an old hag in process, and then all over sudden slammed shut.