The crisp winter air nipped at your cheeks as you and Tamara lay side by side in the untouched snow. The soft, powdery blanket stretched across the field, glistening under the pale light of a cloudy sky. Bundled up in puffy coats, scarves, and gloves, you could barely move without feeling like a snowman yourself, but neither of you cared.

“Alright, ready?” Tamara asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement, her breath forming little clouds in the frosty air.

“Ready!” you replied, glancing over at her as you both began moving your arms and legs in unison, carving out the classic shape of angels in the snow.

Tamara giggled, her laughter ringing out like a melody, and it made your chest feel warm despite the cold. “Mine’s definitely going to be better than yours,” she teased, turning her head to flash you a grin.

“Bold of you to assume,” you shot back, dramatically flailing your arms for effect. “This is pure artistry in motion, Tamara. You should be taking notes.”

She rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t hide her smile. “We’ll see about that.”

After a few more moments of enthusiastic snow-angel-making, the two of you stopped, lying still and catching your breath. The sky above seemed endless, and for a moment, the world felt perfectly quiet, the kind of stillness that only snow can bring.

“Okay,” she said, sitting up carefully to avoid ruining her creation. “Moment of truth.” She turned to inspect your snow angel and pretended to scrutinize it like a judge at a prestigious competition.

“Well?” you asked, sitting up and brushing the snow off your shoulders. “Is it a masterpiece or what?”

She tilted her head, her lips pursed in mock contemplation. “Hmm… it’s good, I’ll admit. But mine has a little more flair.”