Bob loved the band Jouney. 

"When the lights.... go down... in the citeeehhhh.........."

It was currently -17 degrees outside, with the wind-chill. It was going to be a high of -2 today. As it was yesterday, and what it was predicted to be for the next two days. 

The Parishes' annual chili cook-off might have to be postponed till next week, thought Bob. 

Bob's glove, a real sheep-skin one his daughter-in-law had given him at Christmas, had fallen down in between the seats, and when the train lurched  at the Sheridan stop, the glove fell down onto the El's floor. Bob didn't see this. He was distracted, both by the general numbness in his body and that today was his 60th birthday. 

When Bob got up to leave, a young man noticed Bob's sheep-skin glove on the floor of the El, and he rushed to pick it up and hand it to Bob before he stepped out of the El into the shrill air of January.  

"Sir, you dropped your glove." The young man handed Bob his glove and Bob made two expressions on his face within 1 second; one of annoyance and then one of gratitude. He thanked the young man, and stepped through the doors just as they were closing. Doors Closing

Bob put on his two gloves, taking a moment to admire their beauty, and then he thought about the carrot cake he knew Dottie would have made for him by now. The kind with coconut in the frosting.