Unnamed Memory

The woman was holding the body of a young child and crying.

Kids don't move cold and snug. He's dead. She just keeps crying over that life she can't take back.

Whatever you do, you want your life back.

But that won't happen. I know.

Still, she couldn't help wishing.

"Somebody please... help me..."

Whimpers stick to the world.

At that time there were always signs that someone would stand next to her, and she raised her face.

Someone is peeking into her. But I didn't see what kind of person he was in reflex.

The person stares at her with an unknown, but sinking voice of gender

"Do you really want to help?

I heard that.