The Four Seasons

SPRING

She awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, feeling a surge of fear rising somewhere near her heart. She didn't know what had roused her from sleep—perhaps a nightmare, or perhaps a noise from outside? She rose and looked around the dark room. Moonlight, easily penetrating the curtain, cast mysterious shadows on the rosy cheeks of porcelain dolls, caressed the spines of books containing the most beautiful fairy tales, and sank into the glassy eyes of stuffed animals. Calmed, she fell back onto her pillow and closed her eyes.

Suddenly, a desperate scream shattered the night's silence. Her eyes widened, and her heart fluttered anxiously in her chest. A second scream—sharp, accusatory—mingled with the first after only a few seconds, piercing deep into her consciousness.

Only now did she realize where the raised voices were coming from. She shuddered in terror, unable to comprehend what was happening or stop the tears that welled up in her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and hid under the covers, clutching her beloved teddy bear tightly.

She cried until dawn, even though the screams behind the closed door had subsided after a few minutes.

In the morning, she went with her mother to look for snowdrops. She didn't ask about her red, puffy eyes, which her mother tried in vain to hide. She simply remained silent.

SUMMER

The harsh rock music blasting from the inside of the old boom box perfectly suited her mood that day. In the morning, she hadn't opened the curtains to prevent the terrible sun from turning the room into a hot oven. Now she was sitting on the bed, finishing sewing the blouse she'd accidentally torn the day before. Accidentally...

At one point, the needle flickering in her fingers slipped dangerously, and a moment later, its tip sank softly into the pale skin of her palm. Impatient, she yanked the needle out with a jerk, causing a dark red drop to appear at the pierced spot. She stared at the blood for a moment, as if considering something, then blew gently on it, transforming the trembling drop into a thin crimson streak. She sighed softly, then looked sadly at the photograph hanging on the wall opposite her. Almost immediately, she looked away. The wound was still too fresh, unhealed... She blinked rapidly, but she couldn't stop a lone tear that rolled down her cheek and onto her hand, blurring the bloody trail.

With a few silvery flashes, she finished sewing. She carefully examined the fabric. It had worked—her father wouldn't even guess she'd torn her new blouse. She smiled faintly. Her friends were coming in a few minutes. They promised to bring something she hadn't tried yet.

She never looked at the photograph again.

AUTUMN

She was returning from work along a quiet park path, colorful leaves swirling in the air around her. She gazed thoughtfully at the birds slicing through the pale gray sky. This was the only moment of the day she could devote to herself.

Unfortunately, the path was disappearing far too quickly, swallowed up by one of the city's main streets. It was high time to return to reality.

It was at that moment that she saw him—he was standing near a photography studio, embracing a short, unfamiliar blonde. She watched the couple as if mesmerized. She noticed how comfortable they were in each other's company: they looked at the photos in silence for a moment, then the blonde laughed, he kissed her, and they walked away, arm in arm, toward the city center.

Without fully realizing it, she turned and walked back into the park. She sat on a bench under an old oak tree and lit a cigarette with trembling hands. She didn't even feel the tears smearing her perfect makeup. She was no longer in a hurry to get home.

WINTER

She walked slowly, holding the arm of her friend, whom she had known for over fifty years. Their black robes stood out clearly against the white snow that blanketed the tombstones surrounding them. They stopped at one of them.

"It's been five years..." she sighed, raising a wrinkled hand to her face to wipe away her tears.

"Yes... soon we'll be here too, my dear. Soon our time will come too..."

For a moment, they immersed themselves in silent prayer for the soul of the deceased, lit a candle, and then departed, arm in arm.

She died a few years later.