by Terrie Leigh Relf
It was the first time I’d ever seen snow, and it was so pretty. Daddy said, “Each flake is unique—just like you, sweetie.” Then he gave me a hug, and I let him. I wish I could have hugged him back.
My breath fogged the window up and Daddy drew a smiley face in it.
“You’re so silly. Can we go outside—please!”
Daddy shook his head and looked so sad when he said, “Sorry, sweetie, but it’s way too cold out there and. . .”
“Toxic?” I whispered.
Daddy nodded, then turned away, thought, just like you, sweetie.