That winter, you told me that you were going to leave me and go to a place far, far away. Then when will you come back to me? I asked with my eyes wide open in confusion. Maybe a month, a year, maybe longer...
Then I watched you disappear at the end of the street with your luggage on your back. Why are you not even willing to make a promise to me? But no matter how long it takes, I am willing to wait for you. I don't know when it started to snow in this city. I wrapped my clothes tightly and walked in the opposite direction to you.
One month, one year, two years... For you, I insisted on not changing the number and never shutting it down. But in years you never thought to send me a text or call me.
Occasionally at night, I would hold my quilt and cry until I burst into tears. At this moment, what are you doing?
--Fall