A few days ago, I went home to find him, but the guard told me that I was no longer allowed to enter the gate. Seeing the worried expression on the guard's face, I had no choice but to sit on the next stone, waiting for him.

At dusk, several people came out, carrying a pile of things, and threw them in the garbage nearby. On that early autumn evening, the wind blew through my thin dress. I sat on my knees trembling with tears, picking up the things in front of the garbage gingerly. There were his cherished paintings, wilted flowers, the broken orange lamp and the sheets which...