This question is based on the following
passage.
Except for a few pigeons, Central Park was
deserted. Mist hung above the chilled grass.
Patches of old snow, scattered here and there,
looked like white puddles. The sun hung just
above the horizon, casting red and orange
streaks across low-hanging clouds. The portly,
gray-haired gentleman jogging down the path
looked out of place. For one thing, he was
dressed in ordinary street clothes, not a sweat
suit. Also, every few seconds, he looked
anxiously back over his shoulder. Coming
closer to me, I saw that his face was flushed.
He was panting, almost gasping. Abruptly,
looking this way and that, he moved behind a
tree. Seeming not to notice my presence, he
stood with his back against the trunk, panting
heavily. After a moment, he poked his head out
to survey the path. It was still empty, except for
a squirrel that dashed across the path like a
furry dart. I checked my watch. It was now 7:30.
Mentally marking the time, I aimed my camera
toward the man's face.
6. In this paragraph, a white puddle is a
simile for
A. mist.
B. grass.
C. fear.
D. snow.