Waiting Through Every Season of Falling Blossoms

“What are you dawdling for? You can't even handle one little thing!” the girl snapped impatiently. Her voice was as fresh and pleasing as March rain pattering on a lake, yet as cold as a snowflake that landed between your brows and vanished in an instant. Though distant and aloof, she somehow made people yearn for her. The girl was scolding a boy perched in a tree. He was a few years older than she was, with a handsome, sharply defined face that was pale and frail. As was his habit, he bit down on his almost translucent lips. A rare trace of color appeared where his teeth had left their mark. He extended one thin arm and slowly reached out with long fingers, feeling aimlessly ahead. Fine and slender... a branch... Thin and oval... a leaf... A flower... where is it... The boy furrowed his brow slightly, carefully making sense of the textures beneath his fingers. He could clearly smell the strong fragrance of flowers, so why couldn't he touch one? Why did she always make him do things beyond his capabilities? Why was he always met with bewilderment and fear of the unknown? Why, was he blind? My completed novels My unfinished stories Theme: