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Winter Call By Noah Hurd Mom said it dropped to 5 degrees this morning. The snow is still here, piled along the roadside, dark red and hard. It's been here for weeks. It never gets below 40 in Mexico City, I tell her. I live in an unheated apartment. Most everyone does. Heat is relative, though, and we too feel the change of season. We wear sweaters, sometimes. While she's listening there's a knock and Cassie barks in the background, a tinny sound high and distant. I separate myself from the sound in the line. My eyes scan the room, my green plants, and the white tile floor. |
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Document last modified on: 12/03/2006