On a spring day, the new literature teacher starts reading a poem to the class. The poem is capturing the season's essence, but the teacher’s words ar
On a spring day, the new literature teacher starts reading a poem to the class. The poem is capturing the season's essence, but the teacher’s words are barely audible. All seems blurry except for the window where the soft spring light casts. Am I falling asleep? Not a single flower has bloomed yet.
The school bell rings.
A boy appears through the window.
It was him, I was waiti...
