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Summary
The jumbotron overlooking Times Square reads 11:48 PM and minus three degrees, Dec. 14th, 1980. Ugly, orange glow of numbers hazing through the mist, don’t mean anything on their own. Feels like minus twenty with the humidity. Snow’s started coming down heavy, and the streets have gone empty and silent. His breath fogs the air in front of his face and it’s knives down his throat when he breathes in.
Ash thinks he might die tonight.
