Requests in April snow

This morning Miss Stacia received an e-mail request from famous photographer Dustbin Cohen. "Tell me a story," he wrote.

Okay Dustbin, for you, the story of the underdressed girl who walked to work:

One morning after the gym a lovely young lady on the UWS put on a light sweater, a pair of sheer, capri stockings with motorcycle boots and an a-line corduroy skirt. She looked out her window and thought to herself, "it's sunny outside, if not so warm. I think I'll walk to work." Fooled by the glowing rays streaming through her window, the underdressed girl tentatively put on a scarf followed by her light/midweight jacket - outerwear that would prove to be a bit too cropped and pocketless to protect from the weather to come.

As the underdressed girl set out from her cozy abode, she relished in her seemingly fitting choice of garments. She felt light and comfortable, as she should, setting out for a fifty block walk. The underdressed girl fell into a robust stride, gliding over blocks in an easy fashion, forsaking the regular isolation of her headphones for the soothing calm of the late morning city streets.

But as soon as the underdressed girl hit Times Square the sky fell black and the wind started thrashing at her near-bare legs. Invisible droplets threatened her freshly lined eyes and her hands, gloveless and without shelter, began to crack and numb in the cold. Tourists everywhere flung up umbrellas in vain, attempting to combat an enemy that approached not only from the sky, but from Broadway’s incessantly flashing side corridors. The underdressed girl, shivering a mere ten blocks from her destination, considered cutting short her odyssey and taking refuge for one quick stop underground.

But the underdressed girl persevered. Though her mountain climbing legs were damp and cold, she chugged away at the pavement, clacking wood to stone ten blocks further, stopping only to commune with the Korean deli manager to purchase her usual banana and hazelnut brew.

Now the underdressed girl sits at her desk, her toes still a bit frigid from the journey. She is grateful to be inside. A flood of coworkers report, one right after the other, of the snow falling from the skies. And the underdressed girl sits at her desk and dreams of summer dresses and open toes.