In college, I let myself sink into depravity, drifting from one cold bed to another with strangers, my heart empty and lonely.
Then one ordinary evening, as I went out on another "date" like I always did, I met a girl with long black hair for the first time.
Amid the flutter of a first meeting and the longing, ** and gasping, I heard another person's name in her broken murmurs.
The blood pounding in my veins turned cold. I abandoned the bed halfway through and stormed out, leaving her gaping and shouting after me.
I thought we'd never meet again... but that was the beginning of a long, tangled love and struggle.
Like some clumsy third-rate novel, I lost the kindest, most wonderful girl from my school days.
Then I went back to wandering among the crowds, endlessly rewriting that poem called loneliness.
---Until the beginning of the story, the wind still blew... and she waited in it, smiling just as she had that day.
