January mornings out by the reservoir arrive hard: wind coming off the water, a sky the color of a nickel, drifts stacked wherever the land offers them a corner. Snow Bros Snow Removal is on the road before that light does much, plowing driveways and parking lots, shoveling steps and walks, and laying melt down where ice wants to set up. Pueblo storms tend to be short and mean and to finish while the town is asleep, which puts the whole job into a narrow window between the last flake and the first commute. Two hands and a blade, over and over, until every address on the list is done. A cleared drive at dawn is not a big thing to anybody except the person standing in it.