Though those from northern climates are well acquainted with snow, the south is far less familiar with such weather. One particularly chilly January, the port town of Bexley experienced something they hadn’t borne witness to in a generation: flurries.
The quantity would be inconsequential in most places: barely a centimeter fell. But the town was so poorly equipped for such weather, nearly everything shut down. Workers struggled to move around with equipment never designed for such slippery conditions. Schools and other public services closed down in the interest of safety, much to the delight of children. Private establishments such as pubs did fantastic business, as few wanted to be outside in the snow if they were of age to drink at all.
Overnight, the weather warmed due to the shifting of the winds. The snow had mostly melted by dawn, aside from a few small pockets of shadow where a particularly dense pile of snow had hidden itself.
It would likely be the last time snow would fall there in a warming world. But for one day, life itself regressed to a simpler time, giving the city a taste of what would be lost.
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