I stand there. Waiting, watching for the sign to come. The sign to tell me that magic still exists. Not like Harry Potter magic, but miracles magic. Anything is possible.

I walk. The cold embracing me with its cold, clammy hands. I clutch my book like it is the last thing on earth. The wind blows hard. I keep walking. Snowflakes whirl around me, but not real ones. Paper ones.

Swirling up, up into the sky. They stay there, spinning with the clouds, floating above traffic. They belong here. The magical miracle sign. But not just miracles, winter miracles.

The miracles that makes it snow big, fat, fluffy flakes. The miracles that makes the indoors a warm, cozy haven of light with mugs of hot chocolate in your hand. Instead of the cold, white blizzards outside. The sign had come. Miracles existed.

Anything is possible.