The warmth of my tears did not leave my cheeks. While I was seeing this pain on the faces of different people every day, now I placed the same pain on my own face. As a morgue worker, it would be thought that I wouldn't be too affected by death. But when the fear of losing someone in all of us came true to me, I couldn't help but accept it.

I was sitting on the cold cobblestone, staring at the wall in front of me with a deep breath. It seems that no one had a habit of walking down the street in the middle of the night. Everywhere was quiet and calm. At least I thought so until a small hand touched my shoulder. I turned my eyes to the owner of this little hand. He was studying my face with the same curious eyes. He had a frighteningly pale complexion for a small child. He tilted his head slightly towards his right shoulder and continued to stare at me.

I smiled. It wasn't wise for him to be out alone at this late hour. Maybe he got lost in the side streets. His family had called the police and they could have been looking for him everywhere. Just as I had decided to say something, I was suddenly stoned by what I heard. Honestly, I didn't expect anything like this. He lowered his hand and shook his head. He knew me. A boy I have never seen in my life. A boy I thought I hadn't seen. I learned this in what I thought was an ordinary day. At least on a day that could no longer be ordinary, I learned that I had met this little boy before. No, I noticed.

"You've made us very uncomfortable." That was the first thing he said, one of the few things I heard from him. At first, I didn't react at all, as if we were speaking in different languages. I couldn't. I looked blankly and "How?" I said. This question actually contained many questions. How?, when?, are you sure it's me? Who are you?, how do you know me? And why are you here?

"Crying. You also yelled too much." He tilted his head back to his shoulder, "We're hurting too, but we live it without disturbing those around us." He was right. Judging by my behavior today, I disturbed people with my cries and sobs. My burning cold after seeing the familiar face in the morgue was like crying while laughing..

"Sorry." When I said this with nothing more than I could do, it was clear he wasn't expecting it. He raised his eyebrows. I had only just realized how colorless and lifeless they looked when their eyes were wide open. "Do you remember me?" ' he asked, a shiver went through my whole body. A tremor that I don't know why, but that persists in wrapping my body.

I was walking away. At least I thought my feet, which could not move from shaking, were moving. I was trying to ignore my thorax rising and falling like a madman, asking for help with my screams that I didn't know when they started. The fact that the street was empty did not mean that the houses were not occupied. Where was everyone? I was dizzy and my feet were using their last strength to resist. The wind blowing my hair in my face stubbornly reminded me how sweet life is and how bitter the end is. I wish I had never shed my tears. I wish I had realized sooner how valuable they are. If only I could share my heart with those who know their worth. I wish, I wish and ............. was over. I had come to the end. The warm and familiar breath on the back of my neck. The only thing he said before he stabbed me with his piercing scalpel;

Where is he? My chest stopped. He was no longer dying. There was one last thing the wind forgot to remind me of. It was people, not life, that was cruel. It was what we valued most. They were the dead who could not accept death for the sake of revenge.