Time Travel Weather

The snow comes down so heavy and fast that, by the time I've walked a block, I'm covered in ice. I knock off the crust and keep going.

I try to look up from watching my feet, but visibility is almost nil. A car, muted contours muffled in white, grinds down a side street that could be from anywhere, anytime, 1950, 1980, New York, Indiana, and I put my head down again, trudging onwards.