"Are you there?" She asked, facing the dark corner of the room. Of course there was no answer, and there never would be.
She stood up and opened the thick curtain outside the oil painting.
Such a familiar tree-lined avenue, but I can never walk there.
The man in brightly colored clothes stood there at the end of the avenue, with a blurred face, slightly disheveled light brown hair, and eyes that seemed to be looking into a gray-blue sea.
Every day in the past, she prayed before going to bed that he would fall asleep, her Aachen.
A small town in the western tip of Germany.
The gentle love in her eyes could only appear in her dreams.
Until she saw a pair of eyes in a coffee shop, at the door of the library, on the beach with heavy rain, and in the white hospital ward, which were narrow, gentle, distressed, and desperate. It's just that she forgot that fate said she was bound to a dream.