Cold, melancholic, wintery, intimate yet distant.

As the ferry whistled, a long, mournful sound, she remembered another winter, another morning, and the way his voice used to sound before the distance grew between them. This wasn't a sudden goodbye; it was the inevitable conclusion of a season that had finally run its course.

The sea was a cold, slate grey, matching the sky. In the port town of , winter mornings usually brought a quiet melancholy, but this morning was different—it was heavy with the weight of departure.