[Short Story Collection]

1. Paint

1. Paint

/

The country that had nothing is on the palette

The paint called you fell, one by one.

By the time the color that is you colors me

Time called Brush brushed past.

Since then, my palette has gradually become darker.

Is it because of the time...

It doesn't come off even if you wipe it.

Only meaningless tears flow

Ah, I guess I can't help it anymore...

All I could do was wipe away the tears streaming down my cheeks

Forgetting you...

It was you who made me colorful.

Even the ones made mottled

It was you