Caleb Baker's advancing foot, stumbled back again.
His brows slightly knitted, thinking perhaps he'd misheard something, he turned to see an older man standing by a snowman, his head adorned with falling snowflakes. His sparse hair was in disarray, most likely from a snowball hit.
He was dressed in a simple grey Chinese tunic suit, respectable attire indeed, but the wintersweet pinned to his collar seemed a bit frivolous.
The old man waved to him, seeing Caleb still hesitate.
The old man bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, balled it up and hurled it at Caleb.
"You naughty boy, I thought I had mistaken you for someone else with my poor eyesight, but it's indeed you!"
Caleb Baker: "…"
He brushed off the cold snow on his body.
With a hint of resignation, "Grandpa."
