Citrus Jelly pressed his nose against the cold glass and watched the snow fall. His brothers were already outside, their bright shapes bouncing through the drifts. The fun was happening without him. But something about the snow had changed — the flakes were moving sideways now, then up, like they'd forgotten which way was down. He pulled back from the window and wiped the fog his breath had made. The snow was definitely climbing. Not drifting or swirling — climbing, like it was crawling up an invisible wall. A few flakes near the toboggan his brothers had abandoned were stacking themselves into a tiny tower, one on top of another, perfectly balanced. Citrus Jelly's feet did their wiggly thing. He stood like a lemon again, watching the impossible snow build itself into shapes. His brothers were too far out to notice. They were tumbling down the hill, laughing, while the snow behind them grew into something that shouldn't exist. He grabbed the door handle. If the snow could forget how to fall, maybe he could forget how to wait. The cold air hit his face as he bounced outside, leaving the warm cottage behind. His brothers turned and waved, and Citrus Jelly bounced toward them through snow that was finally doing exactly what he was — moving in the wrong direction, but moving anyway.