This part of the city is lighted only by one window. I stay in the dark as I watch the rays of light dancing on the snow. I remember a smile. Her smile. Her warm smile, her sense of humor, her hands laughing. I've never thought someone could smile with the whole body.
She does.
This part of the city has always been a place for refugees.
And? And what? And all I seem to do is rewrite the same story with different letters, different characters, different places, different times, but in the end it's still me, the dark and the light coming from that one and only window.
I don't know how this will end.
Why does the end matter?
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