The two inches of snow lied on the ground pathetically as small drops of freezing rain crystallised over it, creating a glistening shell. Each drop left another icicle on the metal railings leading from the dorms and yet another slick spot on the concrete leading to OP. We checked the weather forcast once again: thirty degrees but with freezing rain.
“If it were a few degrees cooler, we could be getting six inches of snow right now,” we complained. But the snow would come, along with the scheduled blizzard.
That evening, the rain began to turn into sleet and then into small snow flakes in the windless night. Our house ran outside, bundled up for the cold temperature, and headed out to the quad for a snowball fight. But, instead of a fight, we began to build snow men, run around, greet others who would join us. The night time centre of the university became alive with laughing, flying snow, and the soft swirl of flakes passing by lamplight.
We travelled past the snowman that we had built and went to the trees near the edge of the quad. Slowly, we managed to climb the ice and snow covered trees to get a better view of the falling snow. And, after resting, I wandered to the bushes, all the while following rabbit tracks left in the snow. At the edge of the bushes, I found a tree, a tree with a tiny crack that had filled itself in, like a miniature door.
And, with a few steps further to investigate, I had fallen down the rabbit’s hole.