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Hi! I'm Brigid and I'm new to the Writing Group (though not to DU). I've been working on the opening scene to a story, which I hope to perhaps turn into a novel or at least a short story.
Tell me what you think.
The worst of the storm had moved on east into Michigan and Indiana, but snow was still coming down heavily enough that the foot traffic on Michigan Avenue was a little lighter than usual. Those who had ventured out as dusk fell were all on a mission of some sort or other, with only a few shopping days left until Christmas. Most were too preoccupied even to notice the walking cliche stumbling down the sidewalk: A frail old man in a shabby trench coat with two missing buttons, oversized boots with the uppers almost separated from the soles, watery blue eyes, and stubbly jaw. A half-empty bottle of cheap wine in a paper sack completed the picture.
Those who did take notice would have been shocked if they had seen the faded black and white photograph in his pocket. It was of himself in his youth, all decked out in Marine Corps dress blues. Even more surprising would have been the shoe box full of medals and campaign ribbons he had stashed under the broken down cot in the dingy hallway in the abandoned building off Sheridan that he called home. Social Security did not exactly pay for a penthouse on Lake Shore Drive.
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