When 5 o'clock came for the third time, it was already a day later, and there were only four hours before the deadline. He was still sitting upright, his thin figure shrouded in the yellow light of the desk lamp, his upper body reflected on the wall, like a giant.
Perhaps he was tired, so he raised himself up with his hands, then pushed the chair back slightly with his feet. He straightened up and walked straight to the window. It was a night that had just rained, and it was bitingly cold in the south in November. He began to imagine the scene of snow. The soft snowflakes would stay at his window, and maybe he could catch one and put it in a glass bottle on his desk. Thinking of this, he took out a cigarette from the pocket of his pajamas and lit it. The wish that had always been unimportant but always reminded of regrets in winter was to go to the north to watch the snow next winter. Until he was twenty-three years old, he still failed to realize that wish. He lived like a hedgehog for himself, not having any contact with anyone, not making friends, and not even using the telephone as a communication tool.
He felt anxious that he could not fulfill the promise he made to himself as agreed. With a little annoyance and nervousness, he adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose and muttered, "It's time to change to better glasses." After saying that, all the sounds disappeared as if hidden in the night, as if he had never spoken and stood quietly by the window.