Walking through the chilly park as a nighttime snow fell all around him, Greivis thought back to his upbringing in Venezuela. His grandmother had always said, if you could catch a single snowflake in your hand, you could make a wish on it. Snow was not a common occurrence in his home country, and he always begged his parents for trips to the mountains so that he could make his wishes come true.
Now, he was in Toronto, where the cold wisps of winter held sway from November to March. Snow was abundant, more of a nuisance than a miracle. Nobody believed him when he said that the aggravating precipitation could have so much power.
At this moment, there were no teammates around to make fun of his childish ritual. Holding his cupped hands up to the sky, he let snow fall into his palms. The vapor of his breath rising around him, he waited until he felt a large snowflake land in his hand. Bringing down his captive and looking at it, he knew that he only had a few seconds before it melted away and its wish-granting power melted away with it.
“I wish,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “That DownToBuck would stop calling me a Mexican in his video descriptions.”
He opened his eyes, and gazed up in the moonless night sky. He wondered if it had worked. If not, Greivis the Mexican would try again some other day.