C327 Love is born of the heart

In one room, there was a chair. I was sitting in a chair. He looked at the pair of white hands on the table.

No one knew whose white hands these were.

There were no windows in this room, only a door that was neither too big nor too small. I don't know who built such a room here.

A long time passed.

The white hands on the table remained motionless. It seemed like a dead thing.

And I, too