Their story was never dramatic or earth-shattering, only as calm as drifting clouds and a gentle breeze.
Matsugaoka Natsuki returned to Japan in the spring of her seventeenth year.
Back then, the place in the sun where we were together
was wrapped in warmth and peace,
in the bitterest winter and the height of summer alike.
How far and where could we go together if we set out from there?
*
Note: This was a work from a year ago, when my pen name was Snow Cat. Even I want to facepalm when I read it now, but please don't mock my fragile girlish heart from back then. [I've evolved into a tomboy now, no doubt about it.]
