They say every snowflake is unique but they all looked the same to Denise.
She looked at them very carefully, trying to find their distinct characteristics.
There weren’t any.
Chloe, on the other hand, saw each flake in its individual glory.
It wasn’t just their shapes and sizes but also their hue and flutterability that were distinguishable.
And she also saw Denise.
Denise was a block of hardened clay, impenetrable save by fear.
Denise saw a woman in the mirror growing older and stiffer each day.
Chloe saw a snowflake.
Chloe saw a woman in the mirror refracting a never-ending variety of light.
Chloe saw in Denise a fellow angel whose wings were limp from disuse.
Chloe wanted to see Denise fly.
So she flapped her own wings just to make Denise laugh and wonder and float
And cry and begin all over again, with all the hard work that entailed.