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January 1, 2012
A mixture of snow and tiny ice particles moved swiftly down the road's dark surface; flags, attached to each lamp at the auto dealer, flapped vigourously into the wind. The day was like a glimpse into a warehouse past closing time: empty. Everything depended on the light emanating from random pieces of landscaping and those establishments that chose to remain open. That, and my phone's occasional chime, indicating a new text message. But Steve had most likely nodded off that evening. I watched my reflection in the glass while eating inside a McDonald's, wondering when I had became so tired.