"Why do you use this?" Eiran asked, pointing at the stick in Enzo's hand.
"Well…" Enzo froze, unsure how to answer. Then he leaned down gently and patted the boy's head. "I'm sick, that's why," he explained softly.
"Oh! I hope you get well soon," Eiran grinned, taking Enzo's hand and guiding him toward the seat beside him.
Enzo's chest tightened even more. This child was so polite, so genuinely kind… while Enzo—he had come with ulterior motives toward the boy's father. Although now, even knowing how difficult it would be, he had finally decided to give up on this unrequited, unrealistic love.
The owner guided them into a room, where a large window allowed them to see the snowfall. Outside, a family of three walked down the road while a little child played with the snow, brushing her hand through the mountain of snow piled at the side of the road. Her mother scolded her while her father calmed her mother.
