Two Girls and the Snow(Hannah) The air and the snow is freezing cold. I try to pull my arms in even closer to the body heat of my torso, tightening the wrap of my coat around me. The cold feels sharp on my face as the wind nips at my nose. Every breath seems like it's stolen from my lungs by the freezing air. In front of me, the wall of falling snow wraps around the two girls as they shiver and trek on through the white. I stretch out my arm and wipe some snow off of one girl’s deep pink beanie, I carefully avoid the bobble so that I don’t knock her hat off on accident.
“You had some snow on your head,” I say, leaning over and grinning. Mistake. My teeth get hit by the bitter wind of the blizzard and I quickly close my mouth again.
“Well, it’s snowing,” she says in a snarky tone. She wipes her running nose with the sleeve of her coat. “Obviously.”
“I’m cold,” the other one says, her voice slightly muffled by a thick yellow scarf wrapped around her neck.
“I know,” I say. “I am too. We’ll get you home soon.”
The girls go quiet again and continue walking. I keep my eyes peeled for my little black car parked on the side of the road. Though, I reason, it would be hard to spot anyway as every car is covered in the deep white snow. But I have to keep looking. The keys in my pants pocket feel heavier as we pass street after street. I should have seen it by now. I was so sure that I left it a couple streets down from the plaza… but we are now several blocks away and I can barely even see past the street signs.

As we walk, I think about the message I received on my phone – well, everyone received on their phones – earlier in the day, during the festival. It warned us of incoming weather, and that we had to stay indoors because of heavy snow. It was unfortunate and sudden, as the festival had only been going on for about an hour. People were taking down their booths of handmade crafts and objects, packing up and driving away, chatting as they went. It was so much fun to see the individual pieces of art, the cultures of my city coming together and dancing. It was already cold then, but we had no idea what kind of storm was coming our way. I remember looking around in every direction, not remembering which street I had entered from or where I had parked my car. It started snowing then, the snowstorm clouds layering in the sky and shrouding the plaza with darkness. I should’ve looked at the street signs when I got out of my car for the festival. Silly me.

Silly, indeed. I reminisce about the warmth of body heat from all of the festival goers as I peer at each street sign we pass, hoping it sparks something in my memory about where the hell I left my car. A dark mass in the distance distracts me. What could that be? Surely it isn’t a person, and it definitely isn’t my car. Before I can change my path to see a little closer, an especially strong gust of wind blows into us. I brave the cold creeping under my coat and put a gloved hand on each girl's shoulder. Though they don’t look at me, they both seem to lean into my touch. These girls. How could they have gotten so lost?
I was one of the only ones left in the plaza. I had begun searching on my phone for the location of my car. It was hard with cold winds and gloved hands. I gathered that it was north just before the cold encased my phone, shutting it off for good in this weather. Damn. It must’ve been REALLY cold for my phone to quit working. I remember trying to turn it back on and cursing at it before I heard a faint calling behind me.
“Hellooooooo! Dad?” The singsong voices of two small children blew into me with the cold wind.
“Hello?” I responded, looking around for the source. The snow had started to get heavier, and the ground was less and less visible as it began to gather. 10 or so feet away, I saw them, standing by a light post. Two little girls, huddled together. I walked cautiously over to them.
“Hey, are you girls okay?” I was never great with kids, but it was really starting to get cold and it seemed like they were lost.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” said the one in the pink hat matter-of-factly. She looks slightly older than the girl with the yellow scarf, but not by much. She scanned the area, avoiding my eyes. “We’re just missing our dad.”
“Yeah he was there but we wanted to go to all the booths and he didn’t let us but we wanted to,” said the yellow scarf girl in one breath. “But the booths aren’t there anymore.” She paused as a small snowflake landed on her cheek. “I like the snow instead.” She bent down and started pinching the small clumps of white with her bare hands.
“Hey, stop that,” I told her. “It’s cold.” I reached out and touched her shoulder. She gave me the stink eye and stood back up, leaning closer into her older sister.
“We’re gonna go on an adventure,” the pink hat girl said, eyeing me. “Bye.” She grabbed her sister’s hand and started to walk in the opposite direction.
My discomfort grew the further they got from me. I couldn’t just let these girls go; the snow was getting worse by the minute, and the temperature was dropping quickly. And what if their dad didn’t find them, they’d be left in the cold by themselves all night! What if the cold was… too much? I didn’t even want to think about it, but I knew I had to help them.

A soft orange glow begins to make its way through the snow ahead. The light emulates warmth, and before I know it I’m gently guiding the girls in that direction.
“Where are we going?” The girl in the pink hat says as we step off what must be the sidewalk onto the street. She looks at me with accusatory eyes.
“That light over there… it might be someplace warm we can stay for a bit.”
“Home?” Yellow scarf girl asks excitedly, pointing at it and hopping with each step. “It looks like our house!”
“I don’t know…” I squint at the light as it gets slowly bigger and warmer looking. The snow blocks any good view of the building the light comes from. I didn’t think that we had reached the neighborhood yet, though we’ve been trudging through the snow for some time.
“Oh yeah!” Pink hat girl says, excitement filling her voice too. She looks at me and her smile fades slightly. “Well, could be. Our house is a super long walk from the festival. And we haven’t even made it that far.”
“Oh… yeah, long walk,” her little sister nods in solemn agreement. Still, our pace towards the light feels slightly faster than before.

As I trail behind the girls walking towards the light, I see something dark out of the corner of my eye. Its contrast surprises me amidst all of the bright snow, but an image of my little black car flashes quickly through my mind and I turn my head towards it. It is disappointingly and clearly not my car. Instead, the dark mass is shaped like a figure. Who else would be out in this weather? As I peer at them, they seem to be getting closer, their figure growing ever so slightly. I glance at the girls in front of me; their little footprints from their small boots warm my insides up just a bit. I need to keep them safe. So I scurry behind them, speeding up our pace just enough so the figure can not catch us.

The warmth of the light engulfs us as the three of us arrive. The building is still difficult to make out in the foggy snow, but we can see now that it is made of old bricks. There are white lumber steps leading up to a small porch, covered with snow. Now that we’ve arrived, I also notice a soft glow coming from the windows on either side of the porch, though we can’t see fully inside because the curtains are drawn. The soft light we had been following, a light fixture next to the big brown front door, seems to fill the area with a faux warmth. The girls are a few steps ahead of me, having subdued excitement about the possibility of arriving home. As soon as the girls reach the front door, the littler sister grabs the handle and turns.

“Hey, wait!” I blurt, hand outstretched. “Is this your house?” But they open the door wide and run inside without hesitation. Something doesn’t feel right; the neighborhood homes that I know do not look like this one. Something tells me that this isn’t even a house. Where are the girls running into? I sprint through the door after them. As the warmth of the indoors hits me, so does the sound of beautiful music and singing, and the sudden brightness of the lights ahead.

“Daaaad!” The girls cheer. Their voices echo across a surprisingly large room, disrupting the music. Their run slows to a halt, and they quickly shut their mouths. Breathing heavy, finally in warmth, the girls look around. My eyes follow theirs. The inside of the church is big. Not huge, but bigger than I would have expected from the size of the building on the outside. The girls had both run halfway down the middle aisle in a sea of chairs, older people seated on many of them. They had stopped singing, and turned their heads towards the two girls who now stand quietly and awkwardly. A few band members stand still on the stage in front of us, whose instruments were now silent and unmoving. Behind them towers a wooden cross that has to be double my height.
The girls are quiet as everyone in the room stares at them. The sight is eerie; aren’t churches supposed to be warm and welcoming? Instead, it feels like we are imposters, and nothing can return to normal until we are gone. Nobody is moving. The girls reach for each other and huddle together, clearly disturbed from the fact that it is not, in fact, their home. They turn and look back at me. The church’s eyes follow, and now everyone’s eyes are on me, standing alone and shocked in the back. I pull the hood of my coat off my head and brush some of the snow off my shoulders. Whatever is happening right now is not right. I walk down the aisle to the girls, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, and gently guide them back the direction we came with my gloved hands.

“Come on, let’s leave,” I whisper to them. They both look at me and nod silently in agreement. We all walk together towards the door. I pull my hood back on and bundle myself up. Both girls see me preparing myself for the cold and do the same. I help the little girl with her yellow scarf, making sure that her nose and mouth will be warm when we go back out into the blizzard. The three of us look back at the church. Some of the older folks have looked forward again to the band onstage, but a good half of them continue to stare at us.
The cold wafts into the building as the door creaks open, and with a sigh and one last glance at the blank stares of the church-goers, we walk out. Another inch or so had fallen during our short time in the building. The light outside the church no longer feels warm and inviting. Instead, it barely gives any visibility in the falling snow at all, let alone warmth.
“Where are you taking us now?” Demands the girl in the pink hat as the big brown door closes. She seems to have recovered from the fear and embarrassment of the eerie congregation. We stand there on the snow-covered porch, each breath forming a cloud around our faces.
“We should still try to find my car,” I say after a pause. “Otherwise none of us will have anywhere warm to go.”
“We tried that already,” moans the yellow scarf girl.
“I don’t think we really have any other option.” I squint out into the white. “Anyway, I think the sun is setting. Or has set already. I don’t know, it’s darker out, which just means that it’s even colder.” I turn back to the girls. “Alright. No time to waste.”

It was indeed colder than before the church. I feel myself start to shiver despite my heavy winter coat. When the wind blows it seems somehow sharper than before; it cuts through my eyes and face as I pull my coat over my mouth. I move in front of the girls, trying to discreetly use my body to shield them from the cold snow carried by the wind.
We round a corner. Giant garages line the street, barely visible through the snow. These must be the storage units: in which case, we’ve gone too far. I remember parking my car in an area with little shops lining the street. Past the storage units are neighborhoods for miles, where there is no chance at finding my car. I imagine a compass in my head; the garages are too far north and a little far East. I stop walking. Even if we went into the neighborhoods, I doubt the girls could lead me to their home.
“I recognize these units. We need to turn around, and also walk a block or two that way…” I begin, pointing to my left and turning around. But the girls aren’t behind me.
“Girls?” I ask into the cold. Where did they go? I frantically look around, but the air is so foggy with snow that it would be a miracle if I could see them 15 feet away. Instead, I see a dark mass again, like the one from before. It definitely isn’t the girls; the figure is the height and stature of a grown man. He walks towards me and the street of storage garages.
“Girls!” I say again, louder and more frantically.
I spot two small sets of footprints back where the sidewalk would be under the snow; instead of walking into the middle of the street, the girls had rounded the corner and headed towards the giant garage doors. I take one last wary glance at the man and begin to follow their footprints.

It doesn’t take long to reach the open garage door. I know without even looking at the girls’ footprints that this is where they went. How did I not see it before? It’s the only open garage on the entire street. Who is stupid enough, or crazy enough, to leave their stuff out in the open… in a snowstorm?
I glance around at all of the random items and pieces of furniture scattered throughout the garage’s gaping entry. It reminds me of everything that might be sold at a garage sale: old items that were passed down to you from your grandparents and great grandparents that you no longer need. I step inside to get out of the snow. The room itself is not much warmer, but the skin on my face celebrates the lack of icy wind. I finally see the girls in the back. The smaller sister, struggling to hold a large box in her arms, stands next to the bigger sister, who balances on a small step stool. She reaches for a pile of dolls and doll accessories on a shelf and throws them down into the box her sister holds.
“Hey, what are you guys doing?” I call across the garage, taking a couple more steps inside. The girls look startled, like deer in headlights. After a brief moment of blank staring, they blink at each other and then act as though I hadn’t caught them red handed.
“Look at how cool this doll is!” The pink hat girl steps off of the step stool and reaches into her sister’s box, pulling out a cloth doll and holding it out. “I’ve always wanted one like this!”
A sense of warm familiarity comes over me as I get a good look at the doll’s sewn face and clothes. She is the same model that I had growing up. Her blonde yarn-hair is braided down to her waist, and she wears a pretty pink dress with white lace on the hem. I shake myself from the nostalgia.
“Are you guys stealing this stuff?” I accuse them. Neither one answers me, but the pink hat girl breaks eye contact and puts the doll gently back into the box. “Put the box back on the shelf. We’re leaving.”
“Fine,” she huffs. She snatches the box from her sister and puts the entire thing back on the shelf. “I didn’t want the doll anyway.”
“Me either,” her sister copies her angry tone of voice.
“Come on,” I say sternly. They walk back to me, and we stand at the edge of the doorway for a moment, staring out at the dull white. The man from before is gone; or, at least, out of our sights. It’s clear that the sun has fully set, but the thick layer of snow clouds makes the night sky seem more grey than black. The wind has died down, though the temperature is colder than ever and the snow still falls heavily. I pull my coat over my mouth and brace myself as I take a step out of the garage. Without the constant sound of the wind in my ears, I am finally able to hear the girls trudge along behind me.
Should I even be helping them? They were trying to take someone’s stuff! The little thieves. I look back at them. They walk side by side, shoulders nearly pressing together, shivering in the cold of the night. I sigh into my coat. They’re just kids. I can’t just leave them alone out here.
“That doll that you tried to… that you had. From the garage. I had the same one when I was a kid,” I say after we’ve walked a street or two in silence. I smile as I remember her. “She was my favorite.”
“The same dress?” Pipes the younger sister.
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “The pink one. I didn’t tell anyone she was my favorite because it was a bit embarrassing and I don’t like picking favorites… but she was.”
“She was a pretty doll,” the older sister says under her breath. “Maybe when we get home I’ll ask my dad for one for Christmas.” I can’t help but grin. They really are just kids. Yeah, they may not understand that stealing isn’t the most morally correct, but their brains won’t even be fully formed until they’re 25. And that has to be at least 15 years away for them both.

I notice that the snowfall has slowed to a light dusting now. The weather honestly reflects a lovely winter day. I imagine myself cozied up inside a blanket on my couch, with a cup of tea in my hands. That’s where I should’ve been, hours ago. If only my phone hadn’t died, and I could look at the time. Even though the wind has backed off, the cold slowly seeps into my appendages. My feet are almost numb as we pass street after street with no sign of my stupid little black car.
“Girls, I’m sorry,” I finally say. “We’ve been wandering for so long and I have no idea where my car is. We could’ve passed right by it at this point and I wouldn’t’ve known anyway. I’m sorry.” I look sideways at them in defeat. The darkness of the figure again catches my eye, startling me. He walks directly behind us, getting closer and closer. I can start to make out facial features. He wears a long, black coat, leather gloves, and a dark blue beanie. I see a short beard on his face.
“Hey!” He yells at us. I put my hands on both girl’s shoulders as she and her sister turn around. I hear a gasp, muffled by the yellow scarf. Oh no, I think. These girls are going to be hurt or stolen. And it’ll be my fault. What would I even do with myself if I knew that these girls were in danger because of me? But to my surprise, they rip themselves from my hands and run towards the man.
“Dad!!!” They squeal. He opens his arms wide, kneeling down into the snow, and they jump onto him. He gives them a hug as I stand there, breathing heavily. After a moment, he looks up at me. Uh oh, I think. Now it looks like I stole his daughters from the festival earlier today.
“H-hello sir,” I say nervously. “We were looking for you. Well, actually we were looking for my car so we could warm up, b-but I thought if I warmed up my phone I could maybe find you online or something, and…”
“It’s ok,” the man says. I get a good look at his face. His eyes seem soft, and the corners are wrinkled with the many memories of a smile. He stands up tall again. The girls each cling to one of his legs. “Thank you for taking care of them.”
“Dad, we thought a church was our house,” says the girl in the pink hat. Her dad reaches down and pats the bobble on her beanie.
“Well, that is quite interesting,” he says, chuckling lightly.
“Yeah. It was creepy,” says the yellow scarf girl. She sniffles loudly as the mucus from the cold slips out of her nose.
“I think it’s time to head home, yeah?” The man says. “You two have been out for a while.”
“Wait,” says the older sister. She lets go of her dad’s leg. I watch as she reaches up and pulls the pink hat off of her head. She gives it a good look before she walks over to me and holds out her hand.
“Is… is this for me?” I ask her. She looks me in the eyes and nods seriously. I look down at the pink hat. I can’t take a gift like that. What did I even do to deserve it? I realize my time spent in the snow with these girls must have meant something to them. I reach out and gently take it from her outstretched hand.
“Thank you,” I say. I hold it in both of my gloved hands. I take one glove off to feel its texture; the wooly material is warm and fuzzy on my skin. The corners of my mouth twitch upwards. The older sister runs back to her dad and grabs his leg again. I glance at the younger one, who gives me a shy smile.
“Seriously. Thank you,” the man says to me as he turns around and guides the girls in the opposite direction. The dull white of the snow wraps around them and in almost no time at all they are gone.

I crack open my eyes. Ugh, where am I? All I know is that I’m in the most uncomfortable position in the world. The bright sun cuts through the window onto my face, slowly waking me up. I lift up my head. In front of me is the steering wheel and the dash of my car. I’m in my car? How did I get here? I could’ve sworn I was just standing in the snow in the dark evening. But it looks like morning has dawned as the sunlight fills the vehicle through the clear windows. Startled and groggy, I look out at the street that I’m parked on. It’s as if the snow storm last night never happened. I can clearly see every inch of the pavement. How could this be? I remember having been frozen down to my core.
And of course the girls. The girl in the pink hat and her sister in the yellow scarf. Our quest to try to find the little black car that I’m in right now. It must’ve been a crazy dream; the girls are gone and so is the snow. I’m not even wearing my winter coat, I realize. I look down at my lap. There’s something balled up in my hands; I must’ve been cuddling with it as I slept. The texture is soft and familiar. My heart skips a beat as I straighten it out. A deep pink hat with a fluffy white bobble on top. I smile and rest my head back onto my seat, clutching the softness of the wool in my hands and relaxing into the feeling of warmth I now have in my chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper, hoping the girls, wherever they may be, can hear.

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