It's cold outside. Snow is falling, bringing back memories from the past…
… cold…
"Engwand! Engwand! What is zat?"
"That's called snow America, snow. And my name is England, Eeeengl.."
"Engwand! Engwand! Is snow infinite?"
"Uh… yes America, it is… infinite, like my love for you"
A snowflake is slowly melting on the window, turning into a solitary tear.
Centuries have passed but that snow is still falling, as tender, as pure, as beautiful as those memories… slowly, silently falling.
It's cold outside… even worse inside.