My story ends here. Yesterday, I picked up a telescope on the road and glimpsed the life of a twenty-four-year-old. She turned her neck, the chair was a bed, and her hands were resting on an eleven-inch cheap computer. I observed her for several days. She never left the house, sitting for several hours, occasionally poking her hands. The window might be half-open, and light snow was falling outside. The city had not snowed in six years, and the temperature had dropped seriously. She tied a light blue scarf around her head to keep herself warm.
Concept: modern version of fairy tale