The snow had driven people to cover and there was something unreal about the cars parked on Avenue H, white with their mantles of snow. I listened and heard nothing but the crunching sound of the Plymouth’s tires as I coasted to the curb and parked. I got out and hurried through the snow toward Nostrand Avenue.
One whiff of stale beer and smoke assailed my nostrils before the warm air inside the place clogged my head again. There was a crowd at the bar, watching two bald fat men wrestle on the television screen. The booths were filled with younger people of both sexes who seemed to have only recently graduated from the luncheonette down the street.
I squeezed between a couple of big guys at the bar who were grunting and groaning in sympathy with the actors cavorting on the TV screen.
“H
