Chapter 3- Sidney

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He stares at the screen and it blankly stares back at him. A silent competition ensues among the rows of desks and people quietly typing.

"You know I need to get this done," he mutters quietly to himself, "so let's just get it over with."

It seems to wink back at him as he begins to type. The keys dance around his fingers in a game of tag while yelling, "Can't catch me! Too slow!"

"I didn't sign up for this," Sidney says as he looks outside longingly.

Snowflakes bounce off one another in an elegant and reckless dance. Similar to Quidditch, they dash back and forth, passing sunlight to one another like the golden snitch. Their laughter bounces off his frosty windowpane and echoes. It echoes past houses buried in the bodies of their fallen brethren, past streets slick with ice and lamps flickering dimly. It flies past the tall buildings where many people labor each day, head down and hearts closed. Going through the allies and the gutters and along the cracked bricks from another age, this laughter echoes through the hollow rib cage of their society.

Sidney turns back to his work only to find one sentence written.

"Spring will come again." 

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