Moving right along...out of order....*shame*.

I'm dedicating this one to my first flist get together in New York City.

Snowflakes melt into Ryan’s outstretched palm.

 

He’s 20 and this is the first time he’s ever seen snow up close and personal.

 

The Nana is sick again.

 

Sick as in no bouncing back this time.  

 

Sick as in a sadness that avalanches for Ryan the awe of being in the largest city in America.

 

Sick as in, “Please. Take me home, Sandy. I want to see my friends, my old friends. My dearest friends.”

 

There’s an overwhelming feeling of inevitable inside, so Ryan searches out Sophie and brings the little girl to the sidewalk and shows her the falling snow.