The Snowman’s Gift

The snowman appeared overnight in the yard. Taller than the others.

Smoother. Perfectly shaped. Each morning, it stood closer to the house.

Not walking. Just… closer. The child waved at it one afternoon. The snowman tilted

its head. By Christmas Eve, it stood right beneath the window. The child watched

from inside as moonlight shimmered across its face. The snowman raised one arm slowly and

placed something on the porch. Then it stepped back. The child ran outside.

On the porch sat a single mitten—one that had been lost years ago. By morning,

the snowman was gone. Only a small puddle remained. The mitten was warm.