Chapter 10: New York Ain’t Dreamin’, Snowfall & Sealed Gates
Snow had a way of making New York look soft—even when it wasn't. Like the city had thrown on a white coat to cover up the bruises.
The streets were quieter tonight, muffled under a fresh layer that hadn't yet turned into the filthy brown slush it usually became by morning. Steam curled from grates like ghosts warming their hands. Headlights glowed a little hazier, cutting through falling flakes that danced like they had somewhere to be. Somewhere important.
The kind of snow that felt almost cinematic—like someone had hit the slow-motion button on reality.
Storefronts glimmered with Christmas lights even though it was still weeks early, and everything smelled faintly like roasted chestnuts, car exhaust, and overpriced coffee. A few people still wandered—joggers in denial, a couple holding hands like the world couldn't touch them, and the always-there dog walkers who looked like they'd rather be anywhere but here.
Cabs slid down the avenues a little slower, like even they respected the silence. Or maybe just the ice.
And then there was him.
Just one teenager, hood up, boots crunching into fresh powder like he was personally offended by every step.
Jayden muttered something halfway between a curse and a whimper, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. "The fuck—when did it even start snowing?" His voice came out in a frosty puff. "Swear it was clear skies when I knocked out. This is some actual bullshit."
But even as he curse, it didn't just keep him warm—it wrapped him in it. Like the cold didn't matter. Like the world could bite and he'd just keep walking.
And that's what he did. Past the corner bodega still blasting bachata like the owner refused to acknowledge winter, past the silent rows of parked cars already wearing snow like hats, past the flickering lampposts that made everything feel like a music video no one was filming.
Slowly, the city shifted around him.