Reaching out from the corridor on the third floor, I caught a snowflake.
He stood downstairs and remembered that scene.
Later, he pursued her as lightly as she caught the snow - not daring to disturb her, not daring to get too close, just watching from a distance.
He took every bit of her into his heart and carefully saved them, thinking that he would be able to retain something in this way.
But snowflakes will melt in your hands.
The harder he tried to hold on, the faster she disappeared.
In the end, he could only stand there and watch the wind blow her farther and into her own world.
That world was bright and vast, and he never entered it again.
He remembered everything about her.
She knew nothing about it.
There is no ending in his story.
There was only that snowy morning and her hand that caught the snowflakes.
Concept: Liking can be the completeness of a person
