Chapter 414: Everything Begins in Winter (Part 1)

In winter, the tree's branches appeared a dry gray, their forks denser than the most fashionable comb in a Beggley Street boutique, with rough scars and knuckles growing increasingly dense along the thickening limbs until they merged into one continuous surface on the trunk.

Beneath the tree, ladies in wool skirts and fur shawls held their handbags, frowning at their meticulously lined eyebrows as they stepped on the scattered soil beside the flowerbeds; they exhaled softly, and the white mist that drifted from their elegant lips froze instantly in the cold air.

As they complained to their companions about the weather, a paperboy pedaling past on his bicycle whipped up a gust of wind that stirred their hems; they turned their heads wide-eyed, but saw only the paperboy's slightly mischievous grin.

"Ding-ding—" the bicycle bell chimed softly; "thump," his slightly worn boot crushed into the snow; one gloved hand reached into his coat's breast pocket, pulled out a newspaper, and dropped it into the mailbox.

The paperboy tugged at the cuffs of his gloves, pulled his sleeves forward, shrugged as if chilled, yet still reached out and slammed his palm hard against the mailbox's bell.