Snowflakes whirl elegantly through the frigid winter air. A few flower heads poke out of the snow tentatively, but the rest of the meadow is covered in an enticing white. I watch the snowflakes fall from the shelter of a clump of trees.

My eyes find small, shadowy figurines in the snow. A mother, clutching her young child’s hand as if it where she that needed the balance to walk. I see a young couple, holding hands and kissing, their embrace full of I love you’s and It’ll be alright’s.
A dark figure stands in the middle of the meadow. He is outlined in shades of orange from the rising sun behind him. I leave my shelter and take tentative steps towards him. One step. Two steps. I look over my shoulder and see the trees reaching out to me with their wooden hands begging me to stay with them.
Each step that I take towards him, the more shadows I uncover. The more clearly I see. But the trees are blinded. So I must be blind, too.