Ryan Campbell’s pov
Before it snowed, I moved all the flowers she had planted into the house. Although it is not the season to bloom and the leaves have withered and fallen, they are still alive at least.
She mentioned the small kettle she had left before and poured water on the flowers. Her eyes looked through the flowers as if looking at something else.
With a long sigh of relief, I put the kettle on the ground and looked at the white piano in the corner, which was already covered with dust.
I will often clean the house, but I have never touched that piano, because all the tunes reflected in my mind are related to her, and all hide our sweet memories.
It's so beautiful that I don't believe it. It turns out that we had such a quiet and good time.
The sofa and tea table are too tidy. I can no longer see the messy thin blanket and sleeping woman on the sofa, the snacks she secretly hides, and the fruit tray that she makes dirty.