Melting Snowman Gif の小説・ストーリー

I found some small stones for the eyes and mouth of the snowman and a carrot for the nose. As the snowman took shape, he clapped his hands excitedly, his smile appearing particularly warm in the winter sunlight. Tired from playing, we sat on a bench in the park. I took out a scarf from my pocket and gently wrapped it around his neck. Then I took out a steaming hot dog and handed it to him. He took a bite and smiled contentedly. We sat quietly, enjoying the tranquility of winter and each other's company. I told myself, 'This child, oh, is extremely adorable.

Looking at that sweet, innocent face, something in Melanie's chest started to thaw. She used to do this with Trista all the time back at the Razor pack. For a werewolf, building a snowman is light work. Before long, a round little guy was standing under a fir tree. Myra suddenly remembered she needed a carrot and a scarf and went sprinting off to bug the staff. Dwight walked over to Melanie. She didn't say anything, just kept smoothing out the edges of the snowman. Dwight crouched down next to her. His black tactical jacket made his shoulders look even broader, and his Alpha presence was impossible to ignore, even in the freezing wind.

He gave me gloves and we went outside. I lay on the snow and made snow angels. Min shook his head amused. He took out his phone and took pictures of me and my creation. I got up and went on to create my snowman. We rolled up snow. Min rolled up snow while I cheered him on. When we had three different sizes, he stacked them up, but they were plain.

I'd better hurry or else they're going to make this snowman all by themselves! I smile and run through the thick falling snow flakes. "I'm coming I'm coming," I say and dramatcically fall back into the snow when I approach their little shape-making area. They laugh so hard that it makes me laugh just as much. Those little laughs of theirs are infectious and no one can tell me otherwise. If I was having the worst day of my life, they could surely make it better just by laughing at me. I mold a ball of snow up in my hands and begin rolling it over the sticky snow, patting it down every so often until it gets too big for me to even push any further.

On the terrace of the neighbour’s house, about twenty meters away, stood a snowman. It wasn’t just any snowman. It was half a person’s height, with a crooked red woollen hat perched on its round head, a red scarf wrapped around its neck, and a row of heart-shaped buttons down its front. In its arms, it held a bunch of fresh angel tears, the delicate pink bell flowers swaying gently in the breeze.

However, Ethan had now lost his memory, and as someone who had lost his memory, how could he possibly remember something like that? My thoughts blurred, and just then, the auction segment began. Ethan’s painting, ‘Years in the Mountains,’ was brought out as the final piece. The canvas showed a quiet wooden cabin. In front of it, a girl sat feeding chickens, sunlight spilling over her. Everything about it felt peaceful. That was the three years he spent with Jane. “Mr. Ethan,” a collector seated in the front row asked curiously, “the lighting in this piece is incredibly gentle. What was your state of mind when you painted it?”

My voice remained thick from my previous tears, its husky quality grazing his senses like a light caress. Caden froze, his breath hitching as his gaze became transfixed by my throat—specifically, by the necklace resting there. His Adam's apple shifted visibly as he swallowed hard. Every inch of his frame went taut, resembling a bowstring stretched to its absolute breaking point. [AHHH! Mom is flirting with Dad!] [Dad, hold the line! Don't panic now! Say it looks beautiful! Compliment her already!] Once again, Caden's reaction completely blindsided me. He abruptly shoved the chair beside him backward.

“But…the land outside Winterland is hot. And the closer the snowman gets to the sun, the more his body starts to melt.” Ezra’s eyes go round in horror. “He’ll die then. Poor snowman.”

His hands didn't shake as he placed the bowls of delight in front of us. “Thank you.” He nodded and walked away quickly. “I think we scared him away,” I said with a laugh. Easton chuckled, his thumb caressing my fingers. “You're not going to return my hand back to me, are you?” I teased. “Nope,” he grinned. “Not until we're done with our ice cream. I enjoy having your hand in mine.” Me too. “Alright.” I smiled at him then took a scoop of my ice cream. It melted perfectly on my tongue, the crunchy bits were sweet and added to the overall creamy feel.