The girl built a snowman in the street next to the park.
She never really meant to. She had gone out walking. The snow was sticky so she scooped some and rolled one ball. Then another. She stacked both the balls and stared.
The snowman looked somewhat smug.
“Wipe that look off your face,” she said.
The snowman said nothing. He had no mouth.
Then she took a stick from the ground and drew a mouth.
“Creepy smile you got now.”
The snowman now looked like the shopkeeper who placed candies in her palms when her mother wasn’t looking. He had black nails and red eyes. "Candy monster," she whispered.
From the park bench, an old man watched the girl. He had been there from the first ball. He had a green muffler and a big man bag. He hobbled towards the girl and the snowman. “Someone you know?”
“Well, yes and no,” the girl said.
“I made one last week. Looked like my ex-wife. Scared the hell out of my cat.”
She laughed. “Then what happened?”
“Well, it rained. She melted away. Like she always did.”
The girl fixed the snowman’s eyes using old candies she found in her pocket. The man placed his green shawl around the snowman.
They stood back and stared at the snowman.
“I don’t like him very much. Looks like he eats kids for breakfast.”
The girl wanted to ask the old man his name but she didn’t. She was scared if she did he would vanish.
The sun came out. The snowman began to lean. They didn’t try to fix him. The girl and the old man sat on the bench, side by side, and watched the snowman slouch to its ruin.
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