Preface
Since he left on his travels, he has kept in touch with me often, but I still can't get used to waking up beside a cold, empty bed, with no trace of his scent. I would often suck on my soft, plump little hands and stare blankly at the photo of the three of us by the bed, making little baby sounds now and then because I missed him.
Lately, I've been dreaming more than usual, though the dreams are always about little things between him and me. The bright eyes of a boy and girl, shining like stars, linger in some hidden corner of my mind, stirring as if they won't rest until I put them into words. So, on a drizzly morning, I picked up my pen to record the stumbling romance of our youth, with bright eyes and a warm heart.
