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March 16, 2004
The snow was already gathering on the steps before nightfall, so by the time Michael entered the park they were nearly impassable. It wasn't that the snow was deep, but it had settled into the granite steps nooks and crannies, and he struggled to keep his balance with every gust of frigid air. With his scarf wrapped about his face, he could just make out the next step, and he squinted against the unending onslaught of snow. Suddenly the ground seemed to be moving of its own volition, the sharp edge of the steps rushing up to meet his face . . .