He couldn’t sleep.
So he dressed and went out for a walk.
It was cold and the city hadn’t shovelled the sidewalks, and the reflection of the streetlights off the unbroken snow gave everything an orange glow.
So he walked back up.
Inside he listened to records with the volume so low he had to lean his ear against the speaker. He woke up that way, the record still spinning. Parting the curtains, he stared down at the street. At people digging out their cars or struggling to get somewhere on foot.
He made coffee, but was out of sugar.