the presence of the soft wind in the hollow room,

making the room feels cool yet calm.

the pages of diary on the table is flipping,

due to the soft blow of the wind,

as if it is searching for the memories inside the diary.

the writings in the diary was all in blurry,

wondering it was left there for how many years,

or decades,

or even centuries.

well,

nobody know it's existence in the room,

beside the soft wind.

the ink had all gone blur,

as if it knows that there will be someone,

no,

something appear,

and check out the memories

that had been jot down by it's owner.

for which it swear to be loyal,

and protect the secrets of the owner,

and the memories it shared with the owner.

the effort of the wind,

to discover the mystery of the emptied room,

to no avail,

as no cooperation was given.

the wind is leaving the room,

slowly and quietly..

so carefully so that there will be no one realise it's leaving,

just like the time it came in the room.