Snow fell. The world was so white and quiet that even small footprints were soon buried in the silence— ㅤ

Waiting for someone who would not return had long since become his habit. Spring did not come, and winter was as long as suspended time. He was used to frozen fingertips and fading memories by now... ㅤ

Then one day, he discovered warmth in a chance touch of fingertips. ㅤ

Since that day, he began to wait for tomorrow instead of winter, ㅤ

And the child who waited for those who could not return, now waits for someone who will not leave. ㅤ

Like a spring that arrived very late.