A Christmas Story

A Christmas StorySnow he could take, but this wasn't snow; it was sleet. There was at least an inch of it in the gutters and clamped atop the cars, and the sidewalks had been worked into a kind of pocked gray paste that was hell on his shoes--and not just the shine but the leather itself. He was thinking of last winter--or was it the winter before that?--and a pair of black-and-whites he'd worn onstage, really sharp, and how they'd got ruined in slop just like this. He'd been with a girl who'd w...