Dolores paced out of the concorse halls. She no longer took care to see that her handbag was over her shoulder and that the cover of her book was plainly visible. Her shaped hair was slowly fraying about her face and neck. She turned again, just before going back into the large lobby, and found herself on a low terrace. She walked over the large and frost-cracked squares in the cement and to the stairs that lead up to the higher terrace over the South Concourse. The steps were steep and small, but she went up them quickly, and reaching the summit, she stopped. "Get hold of yourself," she whispered. Dolores pulled her coat to herself against the gust and once again she faced the city. The city was at night. The darkness of a cold night was fast coming to this town and when it came it was a changed city. The lights and the streets had names, and the people lost themselves from the streets and the lights. Dolores turned firmly down the stairs. Down each step and into the nearest warmth put her in the lobby once more. She walked past the nursery and the lavatory, the gift stand, and the book racks to one of the couches and sat down and opened her book. The book was quite dull, so she started to look at the people around her. Some of them were alone. Tired looking and alone, they sat reading or dozing, and all of them were a little ruffled from their journeys. Those who hadn't begun yet were there, too, but they were different because there was pure cleanliness around these people. There were friends and families, and they were fresh and happy and jovial and anxious. Dolores looked at a great many people at the same time. The picture was broad and colorful, but it was quiet. No one was grotesque and no one was beautiful. Dolores saw them all at once and she had no friends and no enemies. She half expected Dan to come in to the picture, but she knew he wouldn't. Even if he did get her letter before she took off, there was no excuse now. She knew and Dan would know. "United Flight 273 for Denver, Chicago, and points east is in the final loading process at Gate Twenty-five. All those holding seats should now be on board." The wind between the door and the plane was terribly cold. She wrapped herself up in her coat even more tightly. by Glen M. Briem 28 There Was A Winter For Love Claudia Turner There was a winter for love Cold, With distant sun Warm, With snow Dazzling In daylight Glowing Under the moon. Silent, After the word echoes White... For a season. White Gulls Mickey Dunigan White Gulls Are winging their Homeward infinity Toward a love, A now secret Sea breath. 29