A friend told me that, when she wraps herself up in her fluffy yellow blanket, she feels loved. I would love to ask her who makes her unhappy in her life, because she has always been one of those people who is impossible not to want to selfishly keep for yourself.

When I turn back time, I'm glad I never asked her directly. Instead, I quietly watched her smile deftly every time someone praised her new hairstyle, while her eyes shone with a dark blackness that drew her more and more into her dark hiding place as each smile passed. I listened to her as she recounted how she turned down another wooer because he reminded her too much of her ex, and at the end it seems to her that she will never be able to marry so she will have to stay alone forever like grey hair clinging to her scalp and not giving to pull itself out, not even realizing that no one really wants it. And all because no one could give her what she was really looking for - one small, ordinary touch full of love.