The man sat on the ground next to the tombstone, completely indifferent to being soaked by the rain on the ground.
The rain wet his hair, each drop falling from the tips, while the harmonica at his lips played a distant and melodious tune—"The Streets the Wind Passed."
The beautiful melody, carrying a tinge of sadness, echoed through the graveyard shrouded in rain.
At eleven, the news of his parents' death in a car accident shocked the nation, and she, who looked like a little beggar, had initially followed him just because she coveted the ice cream he'd just bought. In the end, she accompanied him to witness the accident.
"Here, take this! When I miss my mom and dad, I look at it, and then I don't feel so sad." It was a small star folded from colorful strips of paper, already a bit misshapen, determinedly placed in the hands of the eleven-year-old boy.
