Out in the West End the avenues carry state names and the driveways run tight between the houses, which makes snow a matter of inches. Big Apple Clean Up Corp. is in there at four in the morning with the plow angled just so — opening drives, cutting walkways, knocking down the wall the city plow left across the apron, salting before any of it can freeze into a ledge. Wind comes straight off the ocean two blocks south and refills what you just moved, so the cleanup pass gets made a second time. The satisfaction is narrow and exact: a car out of a tight spot, and a sidewalk a neighbor can cross without thinking about it.