Literature
Broken in the Snow
"I'm gonna go home before it gets dark," Liboria said.
"Lib, you promised," he whined.
"Yeah, whatever. Just wait a sec," she said, grasping for a good place to pull herself up.
The barren branches clawed at her as she climbed to the top of the tree. Liboria's heavy boots made the bark crumble, revealing a cream color wood that was smooth and slick. Crows cawed out to the gray sky, which only replied with their echo. It was getting late.
There was a boy sitting in the snow below. His blue lips quivered. He stuffed his pink, frigid fingers into his coat pocket and winced in pain. His nose was redder than his cheeks.
"My hands hurt." Amos