Going to work. 3:57am. Snowing. That kind of snow that only exists within a long triangle beneath each street light. The kind that only gets everything cold and wet like you're living inside of a dog's nose. If you pause, you can hear it hit the ground softly. It's there. Even in the dark. It haunts your hair and outer layers with a dampness and leaves your shoes unhappy as they give you away across the tiled floors of the computer lab. I sign in. Time to work.