As the chalk was used to write on the board, dusts fall off and taken by the wind.

Much like the fleeting time of life and encounters.

This story was made by my classmate from high school. A story just for fun.

We were supposed to create a manga out of this story, but time passed.

The original manuscript is in my possession.

The story published here already had a touch of my influence.

I was given the permission to change/refine the texts if needed.

I didn't changed it much, but some dialogues were changed in some settings.

It's better to share the stories creative minds made.

I hope you'll enjoy this.

Happy reading!

Are our lives already decided by fate?

Or, do we weave our own destiny.

Are our lives a struggle like a novel?

Or a short artistic poetry?