<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Chapter 10 — The Temperature on Chicago Chronicles</title><link>https://chicago-by-night.pages.dev/categories/chapter-10--the-temperature/</link><description>Recent content in Chapter 10 — The Temperature on Chicago Chronicles</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 06 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://chicago-by-night.pages.dev/categories/chapter-10--the-temperature/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Assessment — Monday, 21 January 1991, 4:35 PM</title><link>https://chicago-by-night.pages.dev/posts/the-assessment/</link><pubDate>Mon, 21 Jan 1991 16:35:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://chicago-by-night.pages.dev/posts/the-assessment/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="https://chicago-by-night.pages.dev/locations/succubus-club/"&gt;Succubus Club&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chicago, Illinois&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The snow on Wabash had the quality of something that wanted to be forgotten. Thin, grey, laid down on pavement already black with salt and melt, tracked through by boots that had somewhere better to be. Monday night. The federal holiday had cleared the office towers and left the street to cabs and delivery trucks and the particular emptiness of a city that had stopped working but hadn&amp;rsquo;t yet started drinking. &lt;a href="https://chicago-by-night.pages.dev/sable-price/"&gt;Sable&lt;/a&gt; parked two blocks north of the Club and walked, because the walk was the preparation, and because at thirty-three degrees the cold put color in her cheeks that would fade once the vitae settled. She timed it. Walked in while she still looked alive.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>