Night storm

It's still snowing, and very windy. Under the cones of light cast by street lights the snow passes fast, thick, torn from roofs and treetops, as if the world is crumbling into dust. Most of it feels gone, already, turned into a haze that makes the dark air syrupy. Eddies form on the downwind side of buildings; a snowplough driver has taken a break and is having a smoke outside, protected by the bulk of the machine. She seems content, in a thoughtful mood, but satisfied.