Snow fell heavy on the old man’s walkway. He geared up in the same coat and boots his father wore all his life, resolving in his heart to shovel the path clear if it killed him. Years after his funeral, long since those gathered had expounded on his gentleness and legacy, in a fitting symbolic gesture a surviving grandchild snapped and burned the cursed shovel. The coat and boots were kept; their weight and warmth eased many winters.



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