It’s sleeting again when I exit the subway, and I curse my bad luck as I rush home. I can’t recall a worse November. It’s still early in the month, but it’s already snowed once, with icy rain falling on at least two other occasions—almost as if we were in January. My phone vibrates in my pocket as I turn the corner, and I almost ignore it because I don’t want to expose my ears, currently covered by the collar of my coat, to the sleeting rain. However, a long-ingrained habit makes me reach into my pocket and pull out the phone to glance at the screen.
Sure enough, it’s a call I can’t miss.
“Grandma, hi,” I say, raising the phone to my ear. Without me holding up the collar, the coat falls back to my shoulders, exposing my neck to the sleeting rain, and I shudder as the icy water trickles i
