With trembling fingers, I lift the lid of the inkwell.
A strong gust of wind flings the wooden window open.

...that escapes my notice.

Deep inhale — sharp scent of ink pierces my senses.
I'm disturbed by how profoundly she understands me.

The old, open window screeches.

Am I losing my mind? No one has ever wept alongside me.
I sink the nib into that small vessel, into which, somehow, all my bitterness has been poured.

The freezing cold gnaws at my right cheek, seeping into my skin.

                         Reality hits me.

I toss the pen aside in disbelief.

I look to my right, toward the open window I just now noticed.
I get up and shut it.

Uneasily, I turn slowly to face her, and I stare — speechless.

"So you were a lie as well."