Snow Business

Water drops cascaded off his boot. He sniffled. A wad of cash stuffed in his coat unraveled on the floor like falling leaves. He scraped up each one and started counting. Six hundred dollars. The sniffles came again.

He looked out the window at the white flakes starting again. He blew out some air in exasperation. Then, he saw her. She toted a shovel with the power and direction of a sword or an ax or a finely tuned violin.

He sniffled again and fastened his boots. He zipped up his coat and put on his hat. It was embroidered and provided another layer of protection from the cold.

He met at the middle of the street where she stood.

“$600.”

“$750.” She said it with her chin slightly canted.

He sniffled again and turned to the next block. Three homes remained untouched. His ear captured the sound of a shovel cutting into the white stuff. She had already started on another street with four houses ahead of her. More sniffles.

He put the shovel handle on his shoulder and walked over to her.

“Hey. Hey!”

She never stopped. He got up to her. Snow flew into his face.

“What?!”

“I’ve got an idea. Let’s join forces. We’d make more.”

She shrugged. “You start with the top, I’ll work the bottom.”

“Roger.”

More scraping of shovels against pavement and ice created a symphony of snow business. They stopped.

“How much?”

“$1500,” he said.

“I’ve got $1600.”

“Account for all houses….”