" what would your last wish be ? "
" to watch an aurora ."
We swing on . Anyone could take it for a childish wish one forgets over the trail of time . But he didn't.
I walk over to the familiar book store . The same jingle , the roughness of the wood familiar under my hands . The musky smell fills my mind. I have never felt more belongingness from a place yet still afar . The look in those eyes I forever longed for in, those strange eyes on street .
Arms tighten around, coffee aroma reeks out and a soft jasmine blooms in between ever sweet throughout these years .
"You're back?"
" I'm home ."
