The snow fell softly, blanketing the ground in a final delicate layer as the seasons prepared to shift.
It was probably the last snowfall of the winter season, the air already carrying hints of the coming spring.
Dorothy stood in silence, watching as a snowflake drifted lazily down, landing gently on the tip of her nose.
She blinked, her eyes briefly crossing as she brushed the snowflake away, feeling its coldness tingle against her skin.
The familiar sensation of snow brushing against her ears tugged at her memories.
It was a cold she had known all too well—a reminder of the harsh winters she had once endured, both in weather and in life.
Her eyes, reflective and distant, captured the weight of her past hardships, pulling her back to the time when she had dreaded the cold, not just for its chill but for what it represented.
