FOUR.
There is something lovely and heart wrenching about the snowflake. When it is first created, it is a perfect symmetrical crystal like a million other carbon copies. But when it falls, it loses this pristine form and joins together with other snowflakes to form a clump. This clump of snow ungracefully lands in someone's backyard, and it stays for maybe a couple of weeks depending on the weather; but once spring rolls around, it melts into water, and it becomes almost nonexistent. It becomes something that fades into the background, and turns invisible.
When it snowed the first time in her childhood, she was looking outside the window of her room, listless. She returned to her bed, and found it cluttered with mess, so she pushed this all off and dove deep within the covers. Later, she heard a thumping sound of her window, and saw a half-melted snowball sliding down her window glass. She opened it, and found a little snowman sitting on her windowsill with a small hat, and pebbles that formed the eyes, the nose and the smiling mouth.
She looks beyond the yard, and sees someone running out with his back turned to her. Someone with silver hair, and a blue cap covered over his eyes. The yard door swings shut when he exits.
She admired the snowman built outside her window, and brought it inside her room where it sat on her dresser amid a small puddle of melting ice. When she slid the window down to keep it shut against the cold elements of winter, she found words written upon the frosty surface by someone's finger. Merry Christmas, it had read. I saw you the other day, and I couldn't help but feel that you're lonely.