"Marcelo, what are you carrying Marcelo? What are you doing? Marcelo, Marcelo, Marcelo!"
Marcelo ignored her and focused on writing his farewell letter.
Kharl got up from the bed completely naked; the bedsheet rolled down slowly to unveil her clear glittery yellow skin as she walked off the wooden casted bed, towards Marcelo.
"Marcelo, why are you whimpering? I thought we talked about this last night, my dear? You said you are calm with everything that has happened, right?"
Marcelo pulled off his lumber jacket and began to wipe off tear drops from his eyes. Kharl grabbed the jacket from him and wiped off physical pains from his face.
"Talk to me, Marcelo. I oblige you to talk to me, Marcelo.."
She muffled as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Please don't, don't. Don't cry my soulmate. Let me bear these pains alone. Moreover, I don't deserve differently, I don't deserve better."
"Why shouldn't I cry? If you will have to sit here, dressed like you're about to travel through the cold woods (the victims of the winter seasons ); weeping in absolute silence and writing this..."
She peeped into the letter.
"Farewell letter that says - what does it even say?"
"Please, you can't read it now. You can read it when I leave this building and walk into thin air."
"Mmm!"
"Can you do that for me please? Please."
"Okay."
Marcelo hurriedly placed his left palm on her hips.
"Promise me."
Kharl starred into his cold eyes and nod in agreement.
"I promise."
"Thank you - you will have to stand at the window and watch me until you see me no more; before you can read the letter and the poem attached to it."
Marcelo instructed as he stood and wore his lumber jacket. Then, He folded the scrolls and tossed them across the bed.
"Thank you for everything Kharl Axiel."
Kharl stood still and watched him pack up his luggage and walked out of the door without looking back. Two drops of tears rolled down her cheeks, and she wiped them off with her right arm as she walked to the window. She stood there and watched Marcelo walk deep into the woods, and never looked back.
When she had no sight of Marcelo, she walked to the scrolls, sat beside it; then she picked it up and unfolded it reluctantly.
'HAPPY IS THE MAN WHO HAS BROKEN THE CHAINS WHICH HURT THE MIND AND HAS GIVEN UP WORRYING ONCE AND FOR ALL.'
Ovid