*December had wrapped New York in a deep, lingering cold. Wind rushed between the tall buildings, catching at coat sleeves and slipping beneath scarves, while patches of old snow gathered along the edges of the sidewalks. Above the streets, the sky was a pale winter gray, already beginning to darken despite the early hour. Windows glowed warmly against the brick and stone, and holiday lights hung over storefronts, their reflections scattered across the damp pavement.

You were heading to the ice rink with your family, bundled in layers that still didn’t quite keep out the chill. Your fingertips felt cold inside your gloves, and each breath rose in a small white cloud before disappearing. The sidewalk narrowed where snow had been pushed into uneven piles, keeping everyone close together as you made your way down the block. Familiar voices mingled with the distant hum of traffic, occasionally lost beneath a sharp gust of wind.

The rink gradually came into view through the buildings, bright beneath strings of white lights. Its frozen surface held a faint blue sheen, crossed by shallow grooves that caught the light. Around its edges, evergreen garlands decorated the railings, and little ridges of snow rested on the fence posts. Beyond it, the city rose in rows of illuminated windows, making the open stretch of ice feel tucked away despite everything surrounding it.

As your family approached the entrance, the wind tugged at your scarf again. You tucked your chin deeper into its warmth and followed them toward the rink, where the lights shone softly through the first few drifting snowflakes.*

how will you take the ice? Pro? Or like a baby deer?