Snow draped his shoulders, a shawl of white embracing him in the grey of the Thames' rippling reflection.

"Walk to the rear of the train," sputtered the loud speaker as I stared at the swirling whiteness blowing crystal flakes in the cacophony of shadows.

Sweat broke on his brow in the cold winter air; hot, his body shook.

He felt as if he was living in his head; full and fuzzy and flouncing around, he tried to make sense of the world surrounding him, bright and dark, a contrast of light and shadow which made his vision flash and fade even more.

No hotel room ever smells as good as home.

Waiting for the plane to board, Specialist Alexander was out of place among the well dressed travelers; his desert BDU's were pressed and sharp, but Iraqi sand was still crusted to his tan boots.

The baby made rasberries.

Not the roar of life, but the touch of love, seemed to pull him from a cloud of confusion.

As if life were pushing down on him, his "to-do" list looked like a scavenger hunt list created by a sadist.

By the end of the night, the dank of humanity had permeated his clothing and the snoring of a hundred sleeping people crowded onto mats in the church parish hall had kept him awake; he knew this was no way to live.

Like sentries, shipyard cranes stood tall, lit in the city-night sky by powerful floodlights.

Looking at the pale shoulders in front of him, he wondered what had become of his pale, pixie-faced first love.

As if her touch could make the pain go away, he reached for her hand; he felt the world jerk to a stop.

Stepping out of the optometrist's office, the pupils of his eyes sucked in the entire street scene, the bright sun swallowing all contrast.

It was the yearning which made his stomach ache until the hardness overtook his entire body.

The huge plane clawed for altitude, groaning in the sharp winter air.

From the air, whisps of ground-fog, cotton-like, appeared as ghostly images in the night's darkness.

Stepping out into the cold, breath-stealing, early evening air, she was reminded winter nights came earlier in New England.

Outside the airport restroom, Charlie stood in meditation (arms intertwined over his chest) as holiday travelers swirled about him.