"Eight Billion Stories in the Naked City"

Slowly the cab forged through the blizzard. There were no pedestrians to be seen on the sidewalks. Who but madmen and cabdrivers would be out in this frozen chaos?At a red light the driver slid open the glass partition."You all right back there?""Yes," said Harry. "Thank you.""Your buddy still breathing?""Yes, sleeping peacefully.""You think this is bad?""What?" said Harry."This," said the driver. "This snowstorm.""Oh," said Harry. "Yes, I suppose it's pretty bad.""This ain't bad," said the driver."It isn't?""No," said the driver. "It ain't.""Oh?" said Harry. This was a good thing about being too impoverished to take cabs anywhere (even though Harry rarely wanted to go anywhere anyway). If you never took cabs you didn't have to listen to cabdrivers talk. Now if he could only find a way not to have to listen to barbers. Perhaps he should start shaving his skull?The light changed, the driver yanked the gear shift, the cab shuddered and groaned and began to move again."You know what was…