4:52 a.m.: Carol hesitated when she first saw the group. Some milled around, others just stood. Several scrunched down in their heavy coats as if it would ease the morning chill. It looked like about 50 women--no, make that 49 women and one man. He wore a bewildered look as if he was not sure what to expect. His wife--or at least the woman with him--held onto his arm as though she feared he might escape. The determined expression on her face would create anxiety in any man.
4:53 a.m.: After a moment Carol pumped up her courage and moved toward the growing crowd. Many wore scarves across their faces to protect tender skin from the icy wind. Some breathed easily, creating a swirling mist resembling wind-driven fog each time they exhaled. Two stood facing each other emitting rhythmic puffs like exhaust from giant pistons alongside an ancient coal-fired locomotive. Clouds of steam drifting from muffled faces reminded Carol of Yellowstone during the winter.
4:54 a.m.: At the edge of the group stood a slender teen in a short skirt, legs bare except for ankle-length white socks. Her arms encircled a thin chest, pressing a gray plaid sweater against her ribs. Liberal use of shadowing left both eyes resembling black orbs deep-set beneath penciled brows. She wore dark lipstick--almost iridescent purple in the glow from mercury-vapor lamps overhead. Rouged cheeks against the pale face stood out like--well, almost like those of a circus clown.
4:55 a.m.: An older woman, possibly in her early seventies, fumbled in her purse and eventually came out with a package of Camels. She made several attempts to shake one of the cylinders out, then in frustration turned the pack upside down and bumped her gloved hand against the other wrist. Three cigarettes spilled onto the ground. Carol saw her lips move but she could not hear the comment. The woman shook the pack again and two of the smokes popped up. She took one between her lips and dropped the rest into her purse. After rummaging around in the bag she came up with a lighter. The tiny tab to operate the device refused her first efforts. On the fifth try she got a reluctant flame. Relief flooded her face when she drew in the first lung-full of smoke.
4:56 a.m.: A muffled child's voice drew Carol's attention. After a quick scan she spotted the woman with a stroller. The little girl--it was probably a girl--had a pink blanket tucked tightly around her body and a woolen cap pulled down past her ears. She squirmed, chafing at the confinement. Carol guessed her to be about two. She smiled at the thought of "the terrible twos."
4:57 a.m.: The woman with the cigarette now stood alone like a leper on an isolated island. Where others stood shoulder to shoulder, she had her own moat of privacy. The cigarette dangling from her lips reminded Carol of a carpenter--who, needing both hands, tilted his head and contorted his face to avoid rising smoke while he worked.
4:58 a.m.: She looked at her watch. Surely the doors weren't on a timer like a bank vault. With this many people waiting, a reasonable person would go ahead and open up.
4:59 a.m.: The group had swelled to more than a hundred in just a few minutes. Carol wondered if she should have worn padding of some kind--possibly two sweat shirts beneath her heavy coat.
5:00 a.m.: Voices rose, then a moving flood began converging on the just-opened doors. Some tucked their arms tightly against their sides--others elbowed unabashedly into the maelstrom of bodies. Like flotsam drifting on the tide after a shipwreck, the sea of humanity flowed into Macy's for the after-Thanksgiving sale.