The snow was a foot deep when Aiden screwed up the determination to shovel. It was the third time in a week he had to clear the sidewalk.
From inside the world looked pristine. The unblemished crystalline blanket shimmered in the bright morning sun. The sight made him sick to his stomach.
Aiden trudged outside, kicking snow as he walked. He wielded his shovel like a broadsword, hacking and slashing as he moved. Clear it aside he should but vanquish it he must.
Up and down the street, others joined him, battling their frigid demons.
“It’s March! This shouldn’t be happening!” someone shouted.
The complaint fell on deaf ears. The row of Winter warriors continued their toil with resigned tenacity.
Aiden cleared a path down to the street. The heat of the sun warmed the snow gathered in a nearby tree. A pile broke loose and smacked him in the head, a stream of ice and water flowing down his spine. He dropped to his knees.
Shaking off the snow on his hat, Aiden shivered. He swore that one day he would live where snow had never fallen. Some day.
The dream remained elusive. Picking himself back up, he continued his quiet work. The rows of Winter warriors buoying his flickering spirit.
Spring would come soon. It had to. It was his only hope.