High above the mountain, in a cloud that smelled of cold and quiet, there lived a snowflake named Floss.
Floss was very beautiful.
Six perfect points. Each one different from the other.
She knew, because she had checked. Twice.
One day, the cloud opened up and all the other snowflakes stepped to the edge.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
Down they went, spinning and sparkling, landing softly on the mountain below.
Floss walked to the edge.
She looked down.
And she did not jump. ❄️
🏔️ Stage Fright
“What if I land wrong?” said Floss.
“There is no wrong way to land,” said the cloud.
“What if nobody notices me?”
“Everybody notices snowflakes,” said the cloud.
“What if I melt?”
The cloud thought about this.
“Well,” said the cloud, “you might. Eventually. But you’ll have been a snowflake first. And that’s the whole point.”
Floss was not sure that helped.
She stepped back from the edge.
⏳ The Mountain Waits
Down below, the mountain waited.
Patient as only mountains can be.
Hours went past.
The sun moved across the sky.
All the other snowflakes had landed, and settled, and started becoming part of the blanket of white.
And still Floss stood at the edge of the cloud.
“The mountain won’t mind if I don’t come?” she asked.
“The mountain will be there either way,” said the cloud. “But it would love to have you.”
❄️ Theodore Catches Her
Theodore was outside with a dark sleeve — the best kind for catching snowflakes — waiting and watching.
But no more snowflakes came.
Theodore looked up at the cloud.
“Come on,” Theodore said softly. “I’m ready to catch you.”
And that was the thing Floss had needed to hear.
She took one tiny step.
And fell.
Spin. Spin. Spin.
And landed — six perfect points and all — right on Theodore’s sleeve.
Theodore looked at her very carefully for a long, quiet moment.
“You’re the most beautiful one,” said Theodore.
Floss melted with happiness.
And then, just a little bit, with warmth. ❄️