Chicago winters are cold and unforgiving. Most assume the frigidness begins right at the start of December, and while that may be true for some surrounding areas, in fact it slowly creeps into the months. Cool breeze and colorful trees in October, then they all fall in November. Snow then masks the coming frost all through December, giving way for a paralyzing drop in temperature between January and February. While most Chicagoans and its suburbial neighbors are accustomed to this, they often forget just how harsh the wind can be. 

Called The Windy City for a reason, Chicago's gusts penetrate through the layers of clothing, forces everyone to duck their heads as they pass through streets, quickly pacing to a nearby indoor haven. Inside, one only needs to sit and listen, while looking out the window, to the howling. Not of any animal – but of the wind. Strong and piercing, there are even days when the winds seem to wail. 

Such is like the day Tala hurried into a nearby store, no longer able to withstand the pain in her ears as she tried to walk to work on a cold February morning. Ears ringing and numb, she imagined it would be bright red; she had forgotten her beanie on her way out, and the detachable hood in her jacket went Missing some weeks ago.

Taking temporary refuge in a tiny corner 7-eleven, Tala walked over to the coffee station, shivering. Tommy, the store's only clerk, noticed and greeted her. This was a regular stop for Tala, often taking a cold drink on her way home from work.

"Tala!" he smiled, "You're here early."

Tala nodded as she put the lid on her coffee cup, "I wasn't planning on walking in, but goddamn this wind today."

"Oh shit, I know. It was real cold this morning when I opened." Tommy shook his head in agreement, "Just a coffee?"

"Yep," she started to take her wallet out.

"No, no. This one is on me."

"Don't be ridiculous, it's only two bucks."

"Exactly. Don't worry about it, for real Tala." he smiled at her. The kind of smile a local neighborhood boy would give to the local neighborhood girl as they played together in the park. 

Tommy's always had a soft spot for Tala since the first time she came through the store's doors, almost three years ago. She's likely the reason why he hasn't been interested in finding a job elsewhere.

"Tommy." Tala raised her brow.

He simply chuckled, "Here, get going. You gon' be late for work."

Tala shook her head and just smiled. She may have had an inkling of Tommy's feelings, but she wouldn't be so bold as to assume it was true. He was a nice guy, but just that — nice enough to be a friend.

"Thanks Tommy," she said, taking the coffee, "I owe you one! Bye Gail!"

And then she braved through the tumultuous wind.

Inside, Tommy hadn't realized his manager, Gail, was standing behind him. When Tala acknowledged her presence, Tommy could only whisper a curse in his head before turning around and facing her.

"Hey Gail," he sheepishly smiled.

She simply shook her head, carrying a stack of paperwork, "You a damn fool, Thomas."

Gail never called anybody by their shortened or pet name – her strong belief is that children should embrace the name given to them by their parents, and therefore, nicknames are banned. Tommy has always been Thomas, and Tala has always been Talmia. 

"Oh come on, it was just two bucks. I'll make that back after a close shift." 

"I'm not talking 'bout that," she rolled her eyes, "you keep being all nice and sweet to that nice and sweet girl but you ain't ever asking her out. And she got a good head on her shoulders – that girl will move on real quick."

"Aw Gail," he clicked his tongue, "Tala's a real beauty and all but she's out of my league."

"Damn straight."

Tommy playfully threw a pen at her as she disappeared into the manager's office. 

When Tala first ran into the shop three years ago, she was desperate for a Coca-Cola. He noticed her long, shiny, black hair first, and when she turned to face him, he fell mesmerized to her amber-colored eyes. They were a bright mixture of brown, some green and…orange? He wasn't sure, but they were captivating against her olive-toned skin. Paired with a witty and sarcastic personality, he couldn't help but befriending her. He's admired her from afar since. 

Taking a deep breath, he continued on with his day and greeted the next customer, knowing fully that Tala was a just going to be that – another nice customer.

 ...........................

When Tala finally reached her building, the cup of coffee that acted as her portable heater was nearly half-frozen as she walked through the doors. She tossed it, greeting the security team at reception and made her way to the elevator banks.

While waiting for her elevator, she browsed through her emails to decide which ones she would be responding to first. She rolled her eyes when she saw an email come through from her micromanaging and demanding manager, Maya, who was yet again up in arms that Tala had not submitted her expenses before month close. It's not for another two weeks, good lord. She couldn't help but feel irritated.

Her irritation was cut short by something that caught her peripherals. A tall, shadowy figure – uncommon in any lobby of a corporate building. But by the time she turned her head to fully focus on what she thought she saw, it vanished. Or, at least, it didn't exist.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, I need more sleep. Her elevator dinged open at the same time her phone buzzed. Caller ID was her dad, and so of course she answered.

"Hey Papa," she smiled, rummaging for her badge in her bag. Contrary to most American children, she was brought up referring to her parents as papa and mama. Her mother passed at childbirth, but it didn't stop her dad from telling Tala about her nonstop, and always referred to her as mama.

But it wasn't her father that answered her greeting.

"Hello, is this Ms. Meyers?"

Tala looked at the caller ID again, it still said Papa.

Reluctantly, she responded, "Yes, this is she. I'm sorry, but who are you and why do you have my father's phone?"

"Yes, of course. Ms. Meyers, my name is Officer Phyllis from the Lake Forest Police Department. Ma'am, your father's been in an accident. He's been sent to Lake Forest Hospital; would you be able to come down?"

"What?" Stunned. She wasn't even sure she comprehended everything that was said.

"Ma'am? Are you there, can you hear me?"

"I—yes. But what are you talking about, my father? Accident?" The elevator had now left her.

"Yes ma'am. Please, if you are able to come down, we can speak to you about this better in person."

"O—okay. Okay, I'll be there. I'm sorry, I live downtown, and I probably won't be in Lake Forest for another half hour."

"We will be here for a while, ma'am. We'll see you when you arrive."

She said her thanks and hung up. For what seemed like an hour, Tala simply stood. Looking at the direction of the hustle of the lobby, everything to her turned slow motion. Past the lobby's ceiling glass walls, the hubbub of Wacker Drive almost seemed still.

Lake Forest. She had to get to Lake Forest. 

And so, she ran, bolted out the building.

The wind that nearly immobilized her that morning felt like a cool summer breeze as panic, anxiety, confusion, and fear settled all at once. What took her almost half an hour that morning was a ten-minute, non-stop sprint home.

Maya, it seemed, was not going to be getting expenses from Tala that day.