By. Minkyu Kang

I met my friend after a while. We were both a few inches taller now. I felt cold tingling
at my nosetip, a warm cocoa in my hand.
The endless sky above was shadowed and empty.
I asked, “Do you remember your last christmas present?”
He answered. “No…But…I recall the sweet smell of cookies filtering into my room in
the morning. The crinkling sound of opening a gift.”
Memories of those past days were bittersweet. They were blanketed with a kind of
shadow and emptiness, of time itself, and made it hard to swallow the sweet cocoa in my
mug.