It's Jackson, Mississippi, and the snow is falling to the ground in tufts, individual snowflakes don't exist in this muck of a storm.

Two friends sit, rears becoming wet in the melting snow on the ground. They lean against the chapel's rough brick wall, talking in hushed tones. 

"Ben?" the female one of the two asks quietly, her voice as soft as the snow falling on them.

"I-I like you. A Lot." they're cheeks are red, whether from the frosty air or the sheer embarrassment of this small statement. Ben splutters, his voice gets caught in his throat. He looks down at her, sadly.

This is the church that killed his father, a man as black as the night, but a spirit as bright as the sun.

And there they sit, a negro boy and a white girl, their love forbidden, backs against the jagged brick wall of a church, THE church.

It's Jackson, Mississippi.

It's 1962.

Segregation is at it's peak.