Absolute nothingis as peculiar as a snow covered trampoline on November 2nd,when there was none the night before.

And even more peculiar,all else is wet, not a white flake to be seen.

But in that snow, there is the faintest outline of an angel; as if one had fallen from the sky and had remained there until just moments ago.Deciding to take a rest from it's constant heavenly battle.

But all now that remains is the briefest of outlines in that snow, and a peculiar woman trying to decide how to write a story that will remain for longer than the snow, when it begins to blow....