December 12, 1989: Piercing cold and it's only December. I knew Salt Lake City wasn’t the place for me. I always preferred the comforts of blue skies and endless summers, and yet here I was. I remember thinking that the sun should have been setting around that time, but the sky was the same charcoal gray it had been all day. The parking lot was almost vacant, with most spaces occupied by brown, slushy snow. A man wrapped in bundles of winter clothes suddenly began to approach. He walked with the stiff, shaky motions of an old man. I could tell he was not very comfortable in the snow. The sky was even drearier than it had been when I arrived, but it wasn’t very cold. I lit a cigarette and began to think about the flood. The man finally reached his car, and opened the door with perhaps a little too much force. The combination of his flushed red face and his brimming p-coat made him look as if he were about to burst. I smiled slightly and snubbed my cigarette in the murky slush by my feet. I wondered if shit porn was legal in Utah.