Chapter 3: Mr. March
I want summertime to come. I’m tired of the snow and cold wind. I’m tired of ice and slush. I need the summer sun to dapple my shoulders and summery smells to fill my nostrils. January blows. The cold is haunting in Pittsburgh this winter. Uncalled for. Who isn’t over it?
I make the short drive from my Tudor on Mission Way in Southton to my studio, crossing one bridge, forgetting a stack of photographs I want to study of Mr. January and Mr. February. My goal tonight is to pick five photographs of each model. And from the two sets, I will decide which shot will be used in the calendar.
The parking garage next to my studio on Liberty Avenue is empty. No surprise since it’s after nine o’clock on a Monday night. The city sleeps. I park my Mazda 3, lock it up, and contin
