It was a sad melody.

Listening to it, Max couldn’t stop thinking about who could’ve been the remitee of that little bird.

What would’ve they thought about it, had they received that gift?

What was left couldn’t even be described as a memory - none was created throught it. Instead, only a sorrowful melody, the reminder of a moment that never happened. Sure, the Nightingale could still sing its beautiful song. But never to the one destined to listen to it.

Still, it kept singing. A little too fast here, a little too slow there. Sometimes gasping, but never fully ceasing to sing.

Forever waiting for a listener that will never come.

They stood there, listening to it for what it felt like an eternity.

Something about that song made Meryl’s heart hurt, albeit they couldn’t say what was it. It was a haunting feeling.

“this… is a really beautiful melody.”

Mr. Rato took a long time to respond, as well. He was still lost in the song, lost in Time. His eyes seemed to be distant, and so was himself. How distant? No one could say.

“Thank you, Meryl the Mole.”

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