Snowflake

One perfect icicle star suspended between fine glass plates in a locket created a photo session in a packed classroom of college-aged students as I tried to capture it in light before it melted.

The professor agrieved “What has happened to my life? There is nothing to live for.” – which stirred compassion inside, wondering how I could help him.

As he approached to conviscate my camera, I scrolled hastily, worried how the photos had captured so many faces in the background.

As I began erasing some taken of the professor, there was one that drew me in and led me back into the past.

He was running down a parkside stairwell, calling out with distressed joy as his arms opened wide to embrace his dark-haired granddaughter who ran to him.

“Kifka! Kifka!” Eyes streaming tears as he hugged her tightly to him, overcome by emotion.

Soon after, a man joined me in viewing the dream of the professor giving him a sachel of toy cars as a child – and I realized that the little girl had had a blond-haired brother.