The snowman stood on the lawn, shrouded in a veil of snowflakes. Coal eyes and a carrot nose, all placed with love. The boy breathed on the window and drew a mouth in the fog, moving his head so the mouth lined up with the snowman.
One minute until it came alive.
Excitement bubbled through his veins, a grin splitting his face. The book said snowmen could fly; it had to be true.
He pressed his face against the glass but nothing stirred. A minute passed, then another. His heart broke: it had been dead all along.