he had blank eyes, and they were staring into the falling snow ahead of him, all around him. the night was glowing, but there was no moon, only the reflection of a little light on a lot of sparkling white snow. he wondered how far south he'd have to get before the bright night would fade. how long until there was no more snow? his hands on the steering wheel clinched, his arms tensed up, he stretched his right leg out to the side of the pedals, and he closed his eyes for just a moment. he was the only car as far back and forward as he could see on the slick, cold road as he had expected. the three southbound lanes were empty on this particularly early monday morning. he turned up his radio slightly to hear the lightly falling notes of m. ward coincide with the drifting snow. perfection, he thought.