One Mitten

Farhan had new mittens. They were red, and they were very warm.

It was snowing on Fern Street. Farhan made a snowball. Then he ran to school.

Halfway there, he looked at his hands. One mitten. Only one.

He went back. He looked under the tree. He looked by the gate. The snow was white and deep, and a mitten is small.

“Are you okay?” a girl from his class asked.

“My mitten,” Farhan said. “It’s in the snow.”

She looked at the snow too. Then she looked up. “Farhan. Look.”

On top of the gate there was a small red mitten. Someone found it in the snow. Someone put it there.

Farhan put it on. His hand was cold, but the mitten was dry.

“Good,” the girl said. “Now go. We’re late.”