On a foggy morning I walked the quiet streets...
and marveled at the absentee horizon.
The sky was like a painted photographer's backdrop-- nothing in the distance.
Even the sun stopped glaring.
Birds lost their wings to angelically-shimmering mists.
The band was gone to contest, so I took my remaining sophomores to frolic in a few minutes of fresh air. It was almost warm, yet the snow remained in sheltered crevices, fostering a sense of the surreal.
Suddenly, a snowball came out of nowhere and smacked someone in the back. Swiftly, he stooped beside the creek and grabbed a sopping handful of the stuff so that he could avenge his daring assailant.
She laughed. Who would have guessed that quiet Mary Kate, the new girl from Alaska had such great aim with a snowball.
He threw it, but it missed and shattered itself to smithereens yards from her booted feet.
our mysterious-feeling morning, I made them pose beneath the trees.
We agreed to call it "Sophomores in the Mists."