I open my eyes to a squint as I adjust my vision to the timid glow of the morning light from the window. It looks like the rain has not stopped since last night, but the breeze still smells like lemongrass and tangerine – a summer scent on a crisp autumn morning. I can spread my arms wide while breathing all this tonic air in. However, procrastination is inevitable in this kind of weather. I indolently stretch my body and pull the blanket over my head. I will sleep a little more before I start my weekend errands. As I close my eyes, I remember John. I hurriedly roll over to the other side of the bed and reach out for my mobile phone on the wooden bedside table. I somewhat hope to receive a message from him today, especially this early to let me know that he thinks of me. For sure, it will not happen. We only talk mostly about work on a workday. Today is Saturday, and as early as 15 minutes past 6 o'clock, he is probably still in the land of Nod. But I even raise my hopes high. I smile as I stare on the phone's lock screen background – a black and white portrait of John, which I took using my phone. We were eating dinner last Wednesday, and I snapped the shutter without him knowing it. He had an innocent smile on it and a pair of grey eyes smouldering with emotion that gazed intently into the nothingness. My heart breaks loose to a prance every time I think of him. I must have liked him since that day I first saw him in Tim's office. Roughly two months later, the feelings grow deeper or, so I think. At 23, I have not missed someone this much after not seeing each other for a day or two. I have not hoped selfishly to spend my tomorrow with someone until I met him. But I don't know how he feels towards me, and that makes every minute of every day achingly sweet with anticipation favourable to me. There's one text message. Not from John but George. “There's snow on Mount Diablo”, I read. I dart out of bed with a jolt. My heart pounds in excitement to finally able to see my first snow. With my sleepwear on, I grab my jacket as I head outside of the house. My strides on the cobblestoned pathway are timed in urgency as a result of thinking ridiculously that the snow will melt before I get to see it. I stand rooted in awe under the Maple tree where the peak of Mount Diablo come into view in the distance. The hint of sunshine peeks through the creamy frozen snow cap that glistens like a bed of diamonds. In contrast to the velvety crown, the wrinkled mountain leg is clothed in dark hues of gold and rust. It is breathtaking. I am finally able to see my first snow. I dial John's number. I am sure he will be happy to know. After all, he said so when I first told him that I wanted to see it. “He..llo,” he answered sleepily. “OMG! There's snow on Mount Diablo!” I beam on the phone. “That's so cute. Jen, can I go back to sleep?” “OK. Sorry for calling you this early. Bye.” The soft rustle of the bed sheets is eminent from the other end of the receiver before I press the end button. I feel guilty. I look back at Mount Diablo. More large clouds slowly gather on the tip. The crystalline snow cap earlier becomes a silhouette of gravel-grey and looms from afar – as if to warn the hikers not to go there. The air suddenly whispers in frozen lace on my bare wet skin. The rain has not stopped, I notice again. I lift my gaze to the Maple leaves in almost bonfire reds above me. The rain beads through the interlocking branches down to my face as it mingles with my tears. I am not sad, that is for sure. I only wonder if I called the wrong person to share my perfect Saturday morning. I reread George's text message and hit reply. “I saw it. It's beautiful. Thank you for remembering that I want to see one.” “Soon it will be winter with more snow to look forward to.” He replies. I pull my jacket's hood over my head and walk in quickened steps back to the house. “That would be nice,” I utter with a smile on my face.