He smiled at her.

"Isn't it?" he said with a smirk, facing her.

"It makes me... want to walk again."

She said in a sorrowful tone.

"I'm sorry."

He stood up quickly and cast his head down.

She chuckled, as if nothing had happened. "It's okay! It's just that..."

Her cinnamon-colored hair fluttered with the cold breeze.

  "...It's just that, I miss the feeling of just gazing at the fields back when I was a child. Back then, I would escape our house just to come look at the trees."  

Her eyes were downcast, plainly visible that she was remembering her past memories.

He put his hand on his chin, as if he was thinking about something.

"Miss," he called out to her.

He opened his bag, and took his sketchbook.

"Yes?" She glanced at him, her dark blue eyes staring deep into his gray-colored pupils.

He stood up and walked closer to her, giving her his sketchbook. "It may not be much, but..."

"...Whenever you feel unhappy, please look at this. It's not that good, but..."

Inside, were hand-drawn pictures of different sceneries.

She gasped.

A word didn't escape her lips.

Tears fell from her eyes.