The wind was howling down the avenue, driving the snow into my face.

I hailed a yellow cab, my hand shaking as I opened the door.

“Caldwell Tower,” I told the driver. “And please hurry.”

The driver nodded, shifting the cab into gear.

The tires spun on the icy asphalt before catching.

The city was a blur of gray buildings and white drifts.

I watched the windshield wipers struggle against the heavy wet snow.

I thought about Mary when she first arrived in Chicago.

She had been so full of hope, so sure that she could make a life here.

She didn’t know the city was built of concrete and ice.

She didn’t know how easily a person could be swallowed by the shadows.

The cab crawled through the heavy traffic of the Loop.

Finally, the massive glass and steel facade of Caldwell Tower rose before us.

It looked like a giant black monolith cutting into the gray sky.

I paid the driver and stepped out into the freezing wind.

My boots slid on the slushy sidewalk as I hurried toward the glass doors.