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Fog settled thinly over the trivial village with copious amounts of sun getting through. The village, though usually pocket-sized in population, was bursting with life and tourists.

It was, after all, that time of year again.

The time of year where soft white sheets of frozen water vapor, commonly known as snow, fall from the sky. People rushing to and fro, hot holiday-themed drinks in hand, not paying attention to the things and others around them.

The time of year where everyone gathers together at relatives' houses and greets each other with open arms and warm hugs because they only see each other twice a year, after all, they do have their own lives to live.

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