Snow

Snow

by Kaylee

Tiny hand red from cold is held out to her, snow clings to fingers, shaken in a gesture of 'hurry!' She kneels to brush the clinging ice crystals away and then presses her own hands over tiny ones to warm them.

"I told you it was cold," she chides softly, with deep affection. The older blonde suddenly remembers her father echoing those words.

Pale eyes only stare up to her, no voice to offer comment. Only thoughts of how it felt when picking up the snow.

She wonders what her family would think seeing her caring for a child?