The snow drifts lazily from the inky darkness of the midnight sky. Every shift in the air sends the flakes tumbling from their original path. They curl and dance their way through the night, some traveling only inches from their original path, others make a sharp turn and land delicately feet or even miles away, collapsing softly on top of the trillions of other flakes. The powder coats the world, or at least the entire college campus, in perfect white. A dim, golden glow from a streetlamp serves as the only source of light, illuminating just a small circle around the wrought iron pole.

There is silence.