Snow flakes fell from the sky. They meandered through the air as though on a mysterious mission. One that was cut short when they reached their targets. They dissolved into whatever they landed on. Jane was fascinated by this. One such flake alighted on a red glove. The edges of the flake went first. Ever circling until at last, the center disappeared. It left behind a small bubble of water that seeped into the glove. A name was partially visible on the cuff of the glove. Jane crouched and wiped away some stubborn snow. "Ava" was written on the glove. It was a small glove. A child's glove. Recognition was immediate. This looked like her daughter's glove. She hadn't seen Ava in two years. Deep down, she knew this wasn't her Ava's glove. The memory of her daughter overwhelmed all sense. The weight of Ava's absence pushed down on Jane. She sat on the cold, wet, ground.