About

I can say with absolute certainty that the destruction of the first one was not intentional. Everything after that, however, was deliberate. Round, plump snowballs. I just love the sound of the crystals screaming as they go crunch. There's a crazy woman living next door, and a drunkard who crawls around the building across from me swigging from bottles. (It's basically a gathering spot for lunatics.) "Die. Just die—" she screams. I don't know if it's a husband who cheated with some other woman, or the woman herself. Thanks to the knife-slashing sounds and the vicious curses coming through the wall, my sleep pattern is a total mess. Mental anguish, physical fatigue, and so on. If it weren't for the cheap rent, I would have left this dump a long time ago. If it weren't for that damn rent... (That's only half true; I'm mostly here to smash snowmen.) I was busy kicking the round head of a snowball as hard as I could, imagining it was the drunkard from across the way—when our eyes met. With the creator of the snowman.