His Peaceful Mask
Is it any chance that he can back to the track he was? He looks at himself with blind eyes, considering if there is a chance in his face that may turn him around. But he can hardly find one to continue its own way. His tears are falling upon his cold look, and he tries to brew tears as hard as he can. Exhausted as he is now, he still picks up the phone immediately, but he answers the phone with his languid voice. What he had heard lies no echo over there but merely the silence moving along. Such silence that he acutely perceives remains an empty bottle. Again the peace comes to him, but it appears that this time he feels less pain and struggle of anguish. He calls it the peace, but I don't think so. A peace without a peaceful mind, crawling everywhere on his body and then his head, waiting for the next meeting with volcano, preparing himself for erupting his so-called "peaceful mask."
Very good.
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