walk

I'm worried whether it doesn't rain.

Because I don't believe a weather forecast.

There are no ways to heat my hand which became cold at all.

Outside has been already night.

I have to say good-bye.

Before that's melting in a memory.

A hand in the pocket looks for the warmth.

"Was my method wrong?"

"Please tell someone to me."

"I don't know..."

I consider something such to walk.

Starry night.

I looked up at the sky.

I realized,I was crying.

what isn't my heart satisfied?

I don't know why a tear doesn't stop.