Disclaimer 1: I own nothing but the experience of having walked home from work in the same weather conditions and getting snowflakes in my eye on on my nose.
Disclaimer 2: The title is the same as an Owl City song. Nothing else seemed to stick even though this story and that song have nothing to do with each other.
Disclaimer 3: I might as well say that I never have and never will "believe" in these characters of myth. I just like the story.

Thanks to: my pre-post readers: Meryah, Sir-William, Sir-Edward, and Albero.

There was always something about snow that gave Jamie Bennett a little thrill. True, the temperature was far too balmy for February, but that didn't stop the snow from falling down in clusters. Of course, it melted the moment it touched the ground, but it was beautiful all the same. Some people passed him, shoulders hunched up, hurrying to shelter. Others watched from windows. But Jamie Bennett walked with his head held high, his face exposed to the gentle crystals.

Even now, with textbooks weighing down his backpack and his fourth semester of university already racing toward midterms, he could forget his worries for a little and enjoy himself. He remembered past winters filled with snowball fights and sledding and, more recently, snowboarding. Good times. He was stopped by a red light and he stuck out his tongue to catch a few flakes, just as he used to do all the time. A snowflake landed in his eye and he blinked it out. Then a little cluster surprised him by landing on the tip of his nose.

Every once in a while – and especially on snowy days –, he'd remember bits and pieces of the games he used to play. Like playing pirates or cowboys with his friends. Like teaching Sophie how to play hide-and-seek without giggling. Like re-imagining childhood fairytale characters: sword-wielding Santas, six-foot tall Easter Bunnies, bird-like Tooth Fairies, even a militant Sandman.

Jamie Bennett was, of course, too grown up to believe such things anymore, but that feeling of a snowflake on his nose was comfortingly familiar and brought a wave of nostalgia, childhood memories of, very simply, fun. As he crossed the street, he realized that he wasn't thinking much of his friends – Pippa, Monty, and the rest of them. No, he was remembering someone else: a lanky figure with white hair. Vague as this shadow of memory was, though, it did have a name. That much had stayed with him.

"Hey, Jack," he said under his breath. "Been a while."

Another snowflake alighted on his nose – almost as if it was teasing him – and Jamie Bennett couldn't help but smile.

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