"So, sweetie." She looked up from her plate of spaghetti as her father broke the infamous dinner-table-silence. "Who's the lucky fellow taking my dear Snow to the Christmas dance this year?" His hearty smile was prominent through his graying patch of whiskers as his blue eyes gleamed at her through his simple metal-framed glasses. Snow looked back down at her pasta dejectedly.

"I umm...I don't have a date. I'm not going." She was almost whispering as she shoved her fork into her mouth, still staring dead ahead at her plate. Her mother looked up, her brown eyes offering Snow a half sympathetic, half disappointed look.

"Well, that's no problem." Her father attempted to disregard the awkwardness with a false casual tone. "Looks like we'll be having our little Snowflake all to ourselves again this year!" He shot her a wide grin as lucid as the snowflakes drifting upon the window pane behind him as he shoveled the slippery pasta into his mouth.
"Joseph." Her mother spoke softly, shooting him a warning glance.

"What?" He looked disoriented.
"I'm gonna go finish my book." Snow got up.
"Honey..."

"Thanks for dinner, Mom." She brought her dish to the sink located on the opposite side of the doorway and turned to the staircase, her slipper-socks padding up the carpeted steps in a quick trot. As she reached the hallway, she pushed open her thick wooden door, proceeding to flop onto the floral comforter adorning her twin bed. She let out an exasperated sigh. "You'd think they'd know by now." She whispered aloud. "I'm just the 'Invisible Snow'. No more, no less." She just laid there for a minute, focusing on nothing but the steady sound of her own breath. A single tear slipped off of her cheek and soaked into the soft fur of the teddy bear she embraced.

Just then, she heard a thump outside. She sat up. There it was again. She left her room swiftly and padded back down the stairs once again. After reasoning that her parents must not have heard the noise, Snow walked to the front door and grasped the cold, metal handle, opening it slowly. Wind and snow swirled around, and the cold lashed her cheeks. There was no one there. Her green eyes scanned the snow-kissed porch. By her feet, she discovered a small pot, holding within it tiny white flowers. She recognized the plant immediately as Galanthus nivalis - the Snow Drop. A small smile danced upon her face - she had always loved Snow Drops. Her very name had come about due to her parents' admiration of their simplicity. As she looked back out into the cold December air, her chocolate hair nipping at her cheeks, she noticed something most peculiar. There, implanted in the crystal blanket before her, was a mess of footprints leading to and from the porch. It almost looked as if this mysterious individual had experienced great hesitation in the decision to deliver the flowers. Snow looked back down at the flowers and proceeded to pick them up. Yet another surprise presented itself as she discovered a small white paper tied to the slender stalk, fluttering wildly in the icy air. An overwhelming gust suddenly swept through the porch area, chilling her pale skin and forcing her to close the door.

"What is it, Snow, dear?" Her mother called from the kitchen.
"Nothing!" She yelled back. "I just... I thought I heard something."

Setting the pot of flowers upon the piano bench just inside the door, Snow carefully detached the thin paper. She unrolled it, only to discover that a note had been sketched upon the scroll in magnificent calligraphy. But it was not a note. It was a poem, written carefully in shiny, silver ink. She quickly began to read:
My Dearest Snow,

I've asked the mirror on the wall,
"Who's the fairest of them all?"

The mirror said nothing. But even if it did,
I'd know it was lying, I'd know the truths that it hid.
Because you see, it's a deception, a falsehood, a defect.
It is an ice cold barrier that fails to truly reflect.
Instead, it seeks to hide the glittery fascination in your eyes
When you speak about your passions and the things you idolize.
But no doubt it does show something, and it's important, yes indeed.
It shows you're not invisible, not to the world, and not to me.

-Prince Charming

She allowed the paper to gently slip from her fingertips onto the hardwood floor, her heart racing. Was this some sort of joke? A misunderstanding? Her jade eyes flashed to the window adjacent the front door. Just then, she noticed a tiny glint in the soft blanket of snow that she hadn't noticed before. Her movements became impulsive as she grabbed her scarf, and slipped on her plum pea coat and gray knitted boots. She carefully opened the door, cautious to avoid any unnecessary creaking, and slipped out. Closing the door in a similar manner, Snow proceeded in a swift trot to the faint glint among the icy crystals. She approached the object, only to discover a single, silver pen, adorned in freshly fallen snowflakes. She picked it up, observing it for a few moments before the realization hit her.

Snow's eyes immediately darted upward, searching for any clues, any indications that her hopes and speculations weren't but a delusion. As if someone had planned it, she immediately spotted the faintest of figures, disappearing slowly down the vacant lane, becoming increasingly clouded by the swirling, glittering flakes. Her instincts told her to run.

And that she did. She ran and she ran, the wind inhibiting any attempts at a gasp for air - but she didn't care.  The vague figure became more and more distinct as her delicate legs carried her closer. He was twenty feet away. Ten. Seven. Five. She tapped his shoulder. He turned around, startled.

"I think...you may have dropped this. Charming."