The Snow Globe in my Mind.

“It’s like this place exists at the center of a snow globe made by Thomas Kinkade” I mumble out loud. The shake is too gentle to be noticed as the snowflakes melt into the creek outside the rustic cafe. It begs to be shared, but only with someone who can feel the beauty I see in it. With that thought I gently shake the memory. The giant snowflakes once again begin to fall.

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