Winter is fast becoming a cruel and crushing season in my mind. At least it feels that way today, as I sit alone in River Park Square eating a soggy sandwich, my first meal of an already long morning. Before ordering the sandwich, I retreated to the restroom to wash my hands. Trapped in front of the hand dryer (no wasteful paper towels in this ladies room), my shoulders squeezed into an agonizing pinch. The elderly woman at a nearby sink soon turned my way, and I knew her quick glance at my cozy winter coat, turtleneck, jeans and short dark hair would elicit a particularly painful response.