She raised her head and looked at the blue sky. The sky was the same as before, but it seemed a little too blue.
He lowered his head and slightly raised the corners of his mouth, and finally walked into the door again with somewhat tired steps. That magnificent yet infinitely desolate door.
He was already old at that time, sixty years old, with gray hair and blurred eyes that rarely restored the heroic appearance of his prime.
When I look back, the closed door has not been opened, and the memory is a bit dissociated, as if I have gone back many years ago.