Annabelle Linton was startled by his sudden agitation, but then she smiled and said serenely, "Everyone in this world will die one day. No one lives forever. COUGH COUGH, COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH..."
She coughed weakly a few times, her lips slightly pale, and said in a low voice, "I'm just leaving a little earlier than the rest of you. There's nothing to be sad about. If this is already a foregone conclusion, we just have to face it."
Annabelle Linton turned to look out the window.
Winter had arrived, and the trees were long since bare.
Although she couldn't see anything, she could hear the sound of the wind. It was a little cold.
In a season like this, one's mood always grew inexplicably calm, tinged with a faint sadness and melancholy.
She was no exception.
Annabelle Linton's favorite poet, Shelley, once wrote something.
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Those words had helped her endure countless moments when she felt she couldn't go on any longer.
