. Snow fell and drifted into April. It would have been pretty except for the dark stain that appeared when I bent to turn the last shovelful from the path. My back muscles whined. The floral shirtsleeve uncovered was pink, and so was the snow that had hidden it overnight.
. I had not raked the grass before bad weather had arrived. I didn’t miss the shriveled evidence of my laziness. It was Winter and my house appeared as well-tended as all of my neighbours. I was unready to stand out from the crowd again, so I recovered the stain and dragged my shovel back where I belonged.
(Paragraph 1: 3 facts, 1 fiction. Paragraph 2: 1 fact, 3 fiction 50-100 words each)