Winter.

People have mixed feelings for this season.

One might hate it because of the arctic air and gloomy skies that it brings, along with the melancholic atmosphere that possibly reminds people the wrongs in each of their lives. One might hate it because it is dull, almost void of colors that enchants the eyes, which might drive people to the edge. One might hate it because it is too cold, too depressing.

On the other hand, one might be fond with it because it also signifies the holiday season, where families finally reunite because of special occasions. One might like it because there are many fun activities that could only be done in winter. In other words, one might love it because of the fun that comes along with it.

As I watch the snow stick to the ground like a pure white blanket, a river of thought just flows into my head.

Winter is supposed to be beautiful. The season somehow brings a kind of beauty that it possesses alone, which never fails to captivate countless people.

I've always thought that way. I always found a way to appreciate winter.

But right now, it seems to be impossible in my current state.

The date today has everything to do with it.

To other people, it isn't anything out of the ordinary. It is either another day in February, where people just do their daily errands, or students go to school. Somehow, it just signifies that winter is almost ending, and spring is on its way.

However, this day is forever etched into my entire being.

Because the date today is February 3.

His birthday.

And his death anniversary.

I can feel myself crying again. After a year, I thought that I had cried enough, that I had no more tears. But the sole reminder of him never fails to bring back the memories. I always find myself on the verge of breaking down for the umpteenth time.

Clutching on the picture frame on my frail hands, I just allowed myself to cry.

For the last time.

A/N: Short prologue, and a bit confusing I know. But eventually, things will get clearer in later chappies ;)