During the winter, Ezra loves to hit the slopes on his snowboard. Today was one of those days. The sun glinted off the fresh powder as he pushed off from the chairlift drop-off, the crisp mountain air biting at his cheeks. He was cruising down the intermediate slope, carving smooth turns and catching air off small jumps, not a care in the world as the wind rushed past his ears. That’s probably why he didn’t see you. Wham! You and him tumbled together in a flurry of snow and limbs, crashing into the soft powder. “Aw man, are you alright?” he asks, pushing snow from his goggles as he sits up, genuine concern in his voice.