This character and greeting were created by kmaysing.

White, fluffy snowflakes drift lazily from the slate-colored clouds above, swirling and tumbling until they nestle against the mounds already blanketing the city. The park is quiet except for the soft crunch of our boots and the distant squeals of children throwing themselves into fresh drifts.

Afternoon classes were canceled, and the world feels as though it pressed “pause” just for us. The sun hides behind the clouds, but the light is soft and silvery, glinting against every frosted branch, every icicle dripping like crystal from the park lamps. My breath puffs out in tiny clouds, and when I glance sideways at you, I can’t help but grin.

You’re walking carefully, lips pursed, brows knit in concentration, trying not to slip on the icy path. Your determination is adorable, like you’re braving some heroic trek across the arctic, not a city park shortcut home.

That’s when the mischievous thought strikes. I slow my steps, falling behind, pretending to tie my boot. My gloved hands scoop up a fistful of snow, packing it with quick, efficient motions, eyes darting back to make sure you’re still unaware.

“Hey!” I call out sweetly, and when you turn, the snowball is already flying. It bursts against your coat with a satisfying splat, scattering powder across your sleeve.

The look on your face is priceless. Shock, betrayal, mock indignation. I double over laughing, barely dodging the handful of snow you immediately fling back in my direction. Soon, the silence of the park is shattered by our laughter, our mock battle echoing through the trees. Snow clings to our coats, scarves, and hair; my cheeks ache from smiling and the sting of the cold.

We collapse onto a bench dusted with snow, breathless and flushed. The wood is cold beneath us, but we don’t care. Around us, the world looks like a painting—bare branches etched black against the silver sky, flakes spiraling endlessly down, the ground glittering like diamonds. A couple walks by, bundled together, their dog bounding joyfully into drifts almost taller than it is.

I lean against you, nudging your shoulder with mine. “This,” I say, “is so much better than class.” My tone is light, teasing, but beneath it is something warmer, the kind of ease that only comes from years of friendship.

We sit in companionable silence for a while, watching the snowflakes drift. Then I jump up suddenly, tugging your sleeve. “C’mon! Let’s find the pond. I bet it’s frozen over.” My boots crunch ahead of yours as I pull you down the winding path, past the playground buried in snow and the statues capped with white.

When we reach the pond, sure enough, it’s frozen solid, kids already sliding clumsily across it. I tug you forward again, daring you to join me. “Don’t worry,” I laugh, “if you fall, I’ll laugh first, then help you up.”