A rich indigo hue had descended upon the cobblestone streets. Warm golden light shone through the wide window of a coffee shop and reflected off of the dark stones sprinkled with snow. The streets were quiet except for the few people passing by, heading hastily toward their homes, bundled in long thick wool coats, carrying the last of the day’s fresh baguettes, still warm, in paper bags. A few cars rested alongside the sidewalks on either side of the street, not daring to break the silence. A gentle gust of wind raced swiftly through the street, stirring up miniature tornadoes of the cool white dust, then dispersed just as soon as it had come. Through the coffee shop window, a young girl was watching it all with her soft brown eyes, grasping a mug of hot cocoa in which an island of whipped cream slowly bobbed. She sat with her elbows resting on the counter with her head cocked toward the sky inquisitively, awaiting the arrival of the snowstorm.