Pierson looked up at the clouds, which looked a nearly white shade of grey, as well as looking to be quite high up in the atmosphere. He could see snowflakes falling, looking somewhat dark against the lightness of the clouds, before becoming white against the backdrop of the buildings.
They were small flakes, falling like a light rain shower. Usually snow in Coquitlam came down as big, fluffy flakes, that almost looked to be clusters of many smaller flakes, and could fall quite rapidly, as well as melting or being compacted into slush quickly, as the humid climate of Coquitlam meant most snows received there were wet snows that were lucky if they lasted twenty four hours because Coquitlam wasn’t a particularly cold place, thus either ambient temperature, or even the snow changing to rain would often melt it all away.
Part of Pierson was tempted to make an attempt to catch a snowflake on his tongue, but he felt that would probably be an undignified act for a wealthy businessman, or even the son of a wealthy businessman, not to mention, the snowflakes were so small he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to tell if he got one on his tongue.
With the clusters of flakes in Coquitlam, it was more noticeable, and even possibly easy for a person to inhale the snow into their mouth, not to mention, people his age weren’t necessarily expected to behave quite so maturely in the modern day as they’d been in the 1940s, no matter how wealthy they were.
Even though he couldn’t go catching snowflakes on his tongue, Pierson had to admit, he was glad to be walking out in the snow with Mouse* on his arm. It seemed something of a romantic thing to him, and considering that Mouse was about the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on in any time period of history, Pierson was pleased to be walking with her down a snowy street.
Since he was playing the part of a wealthy businessman — or possibly the son of one, considering he was young, and felt certain that he looked youthful — and had assigned to Mouse the role of his secretary with whom he had no romantic connections, however, he forced himself to not look at her affectionately, even though he wanted to; indeed, he actually wanted to ask her if he could kiss her.
As they walked, the snow started falling thicker and faster, but the flakes didn’t increase in size, nor did the wind pick up. All of the snow just continued falling straight down, coating the sidewalks and the roadways, as well as parked cars, store signs, awnings, rooftops, and even the top of his hat, his shoulders, and his forearm.
Passing vehicles and pedestrians left tracks, as did some birds, all of which Pierson observed to be strange to him, not that he expected the birds of Europe to be the same as those of North America, unless some were birds which had been introduced to North America, but he wasn’t recognising any.
*Mouse is the nickname he's assigned to her in lieu of knowing her real name.
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