Where the Wind Remembers

colored gray, casting long shadows on the cobbled pathways that stretched along

posed to be here yet - the train had arrived early, the station too crowded, the taxis too few

elow - calm yet endless, just

mething abou

g eerily

g water stirred a deep ache in his ribs, like a wound reopened by air. He didn't rem

been her

ling his coat tighter, as if that could protect him from more than just

gnize the face

No one was sure how it happened. A quiet town, a dark night, a broken r

on his ID and the quiet certainty that s

e re

ew universi

, impressed by sketches he didn't remember drawing. The counselor sai

started over, s

ing on this bridge. Of red ribbons in the wind. Of s

t. But some ghosts ar

e surface like distant footsteps. He turne

softly against the wet stone. Crimson coat, jet-black hair, and eyes like polished glass - unr

twisted

ting slightly. And then, she w

ood f

recogn

... recog

t of the golden leaves free. They fell around him

e at the water below a

ike I left somet

ge gave

plied - a soft,

self walking along the riverbank, not quite sure why. The streets were quiet

e made felt.

used. His eyes were drawn to an old building ahead - a closed-down tea shop, j

ad been sc

rt beat

ugh the broken glass of the door, he could make out overturned

on, tied around a n

s. Faded from tim

forward, fingers brushing the fa

th

vo

supposed to

ned sh

o

e wind. The sound

ibbon fluttered once more and fell to the ground a

dn't pi

old him, were better l

ay, the wind curled beh

s you... even