Swirling snow and sheets of white glazed across the thick coat of this solemn man. Trudging through unnoticed and unseen. As always he was on a personal mission. He had often said change was a good thing for him, whether a change would be deemed unnecessary or cruel or to even diminish his own spirit, it still was a good thing. Change meant a direction; a distance covered. A new hand to hold or tears to shed. A new face to learn or a new mouth to feed – a story to tell. But this change was tough and he knew it, and he tried to hold on as he gripped the fur-lined leather so tight across his chest. He could feel the ice in him, encasing the warmth of his heart that had worked so hard over the years.

But he swayed, and he fell and he stared delicately into the distance. Perhaps he had tried too hard this time. He was old, and he thought that there could only be but one change left for a man his age.