Linden trees lined the cobblestone street, and each of their branches was dusted with snow from the first snow of the year. The first snow, which took place in the earliest hour of a Late-November morning, captured no attention from the city’s dreamers except for one. This child, a dreamer by nature who thus needed no sleep, stood before the curtained windows of his modest bedroom, and peered out into the darkness through a slit between the drapes. White, a dance of white was all he could see. Were it Summer, he would have thought them dandelion seeds, drifting on a single breath of a girl in a field golden with sunshine. But Summer was two seasons away, and the sky was too dark to be day. Snow. He smiled at the thought. He ran to grab his boots and jacket, but stopped when he realized his parents were asleep. Not wanting to wake them, he went back to his window and opened the curtains. Moonlight flooded into the room, creating a puddle of silvery light on the cold wooden floor. Content, he crawled back beneath his sheets, smiling at the warmth of his blankets as his mind began to wander and his thoughts began to dance with the twirling crystals outside.