In a room dominated by white paint, a woman looked down listlessly at the back of the other woman's thin and pale hand.
She didn't know how long she cried, holding tightness in her chest to make her eyes a little puffy and her face flushed.
She did not sob, nor did she move in her seat. She was scared that her small movements would wake the middle-aged woman who had just slept thirty minutes ago.
Her hand didn't stop tightly grasping Luna's hand, which felt so weak without power. She kisses the back of that hand as if to say that she loves her and will always be by her side no matter what happens.
It has been exactly five days since Luna was in the hospital due to her weak body condition. And during these five days, there was not a day that Lucia passed without feeling sad.
At sixty-year-old age, Luna's hair has wholly turned gray. Her body was thin until the curves of the bones were visible from the outside.
