Chilly, glorious, petite


“My petite little sweet,” he said to his young daughter, checking her gear. “A chilly good morning, my glorious snowflake!” he called out as she feathered down the ski slope through powder snow, cold air and hot tears streaking across her face,  a smile as wide as the hills. 

 

 

Written in response to this Three Word Wednesday  prompt. 

 

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