Snow

Death stood just inside of the tree line, obscured from view, delighted by the falling snow. The angel watched as people moved past, rushing and annoyed (or meandering and annoyed), leaving their footprints behind. The snow continued regardless, silently and without any fuss, filling the prints with bright bits of frozen water until they vanished as if they had never been made. "It's beautiful and ... well, really kind of validating," Death whispered, feeling a worthy part of things so seldom - always arriving at the end of the party when it was time for everyone to go home.