mood:
grayish blue, late at night with the sound of the waves crashing the seashore in the background.
Water dripping down her back from her newly-washed hair. Her skin was cold when you touched it, but her hug was warm. And, somehow it was always enough.

"What are you doing?" you asked her.
"Morning," she answered. You wanted to ask what's with the greeting, but you kept it to yourself instead. Like many other things you should have told her.
At that time you were confused by her answer. It wasn't until now that you understand what she really said.

"I am mourning now, too," you whispered, but the only reply was the crashing waves.

10 tracks