One cold morning, something floated down from the sky.
Just one. Just one tiny white flake, spinning slowly, slowly down.
It landed on Arlo's mitten.
He stared at it. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Six perfect points, like a tiny star made of ice.
Then another came. And another. And another.
Soon the whole garden was white and soft and still.
Arlo opened his mouth and caught a snowflake on his tongue.
It tasted like cold and magic.
He laughed and ran in circles, and the snow kept coming, and the whole world was new.