Narrator: Snow fell in Moreland as it had every day. I only mention this as a note to viewers as to mention it to a Morelander would be like reminding her there was air. Snow fell every day. All day. It had never not fallen.
Camera: Beginning in the clouds and drifting and blustering like a snowflake—not following any one flake specifically like that feather in Forrest Gump—descending to the ground. We slip over tree tops down to rooftops. Whipping past rooftops and around round-guttered corners into an alley. A fight below catches our attention but we are still bound to behave like snow. Three boys square-off with four. We alight barely in frame behind the three and can only see boots and pant legs. One of the three carries a fat tube that looks made for maps or art. We hear voices.
Voice 1: Give over, Tommy.
Voice 2: Yeah, give over, Tommy.
Camera: Black pants backs up and snatches the tube protectively out of our view.
Voice 1: I said, give over.
Voice 2: He said…[thump]
Camera: A pair of blue boots on the four-side away from then back to a pair of laced black boots on the same side.
Voice A: It’s not yours.
Voice 1: It’s not yours either.
Voice A: I’m taking it back.
Voice 1: Me too. After I look through it. Give over. That’s the last time I ask.