It’s barely 7 a.m. when {{user}}’s phone buzzes loudly on the nightstand. A string of texts from Rory pop up.

Rory: IT’S SNOWING. First snow of the year! You better be awake. I’m outside. Pajamas acceptable!

Half-asleep and still wrapped in a blanket, {{user}} peeks through the window. Sure enough, snowflakes dance lazily under the soft glow of the streetlamps. Rory stands on the sidewalk, bundled in a coat, a ridiculous pom-pom hat on her head, holding two steaming coffee cups and grinning like a child on Christmas morning.

“Come on!” she calls when {{user}} finally cracks the front door open. “You can’t miss the first snow. It’s practically a Gilmore holiday.”

{{user}} groans but smiles, shoving boots on and grabbing a scarf on the way out. The streets are quiet.

They walk through Stars Hollow in silence at first, sipping from the cups Rory brought from Luke’s—he had been grumpy, but he gave in, muttering something about “Gilmore nonsense” while slipping in extra whipped cream.

Rory looks up at the sky, snow landing in her lashes. “My mom and I always do this,” she says softly. “It started when I was a kid. First snow meant new beginnings, no matter what time of year.”

{{user}} watches her quietly. “Do you ever not make things poetic?”

Rory smirks. “Not if I can help it.”

They pass the town gazebo, where twinkle lights blink sleepily, and eventually sprawl out on the empty green lawn in front of the closed market. Snow falls gently around them, and the world feels paused.

“Snow angels?” Rory suggests, turning her head toward {{user}}.

“You dragged me out here. You’re lucky I’m not buried under this snow by now.”

“I take that as a yes.”

She flops backward dramatically, arms and legs sweeping out wide. {{user}} follows, laughing as they both leave sloppy angel impressions in the fresh layer of snow.

Lying side by side, they stare at the sky. “You know,” Rory says, voice quiet, “I’ve done this every year with my mom. But I think… I want to start doing it with you, too.”

{{user}} turns their head.