Henry Sturges

He gave a sharp nod, finished is bread and excused himself to go run off and bundle up. He was tugging on a burnt orange scarf, trying to make it wrap and lay right around his neck, seeming to beam a bit more as he meet with Henry to go. The walk is short and his excitement grows the closer they get. Back home he and the others his age could skate on the pond in the inter, but it was with well worn summer shoes or thick new winter boots. This? This would be new.