I woke up with the bright sunshine and the hospital smell as usual. I got out of my bed and washed my face quietly, as usual.

I knew it was a new day though I still regarded it as yesterday because everything was the same. The same room – cabined and silent; the same color – chaste white; the same roommate – the man with obnubilation. He always told me that the reason we were sent to this depressive place was that we have so many dreams which could never come true. I knew nothing about his dream.

Every time he just smiled.

As time went by, he was getting older and older. I noticed that the man always sat in the sun, delightedly watching a flower facing to him. Whenever the time was, or how the weather changed, he always acted like the most faithful friend of the flower. Four seasons altered as the flower grew up from a bud to a delicate and charming blossom. The whole life of the old man was stepping to become withered as the falling flower. At last, he passed away peacefully. But after his death, I realized his real dream.

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