"But I did not feel lonely. I forgot the weary journey and many unpleasant memories of the past. I gazed at this little round opening, and the green leaves spoke with me. I understood nature's silent language, just as it understood mine.
I sat happily by my window. A month, then two months passed, and I became attached to this patch of green.
I carefully examined its tender, slender tendrils, its leaves, and its coiling shoots. I felt a child's eager delight, and couldn't bear to let it grow too quickly, too luxuriantly. When it rained, I heard its gentle, whispering sound and watched it sway gracefully.
Suddenly, a selfish thought stirred in me. I reached through the broken window and drew two sap-filled, supple branches into my room, letting them stretch across my desk so the greenery could be closer to me, more intimate.
But every morning, when I got up to look at my imprisoned 'green friend,' its tip always pointed toward the window. Even its tiniest leaf and the slenderest tendril faced the way it had before. How stubborn plants are! It did not understand my affection or my good intentions. I was displeased with this plant that always grew toward the sun, because it hurt my pride. But I kept it captive all the same, letting its frail branches hang over my desk."
A reading voice drifted through the stillness of time.
The black-haired boy's impassive profile still looked sharp as a blade in the warm, golden dusk.
As if that soft, joyful voice had nothing to do with him.
Beside him, the boy propping up his chin smiled, bright and warm.
Impossibly radiant.
P.S. An episodic collection with unclear character traits and an uncertain direction...
