In the study, it was like a corner deep in the years, quiet and melancholic.
Outside the window, a torrential rain was pouring furiously, as if a tragic symphony had started between heaven and earth. The raindrops swept up by the fierce wind ferociously battered the window, emitting bursts of mournful howls, as if time was striking the final chapter of life.
On the desk sat a dimly lit kerosene lamp. The once robust old man now appeared particularly frail and exhausted. He was covered with a camel hair blanket and seemed to sink into the faded leather armchair.
The face sculpted by years was filled with deep, ravine-like wrinkles. His profound eyes shimmered with the glimmer of past days yet revealed an undeniable frailty. Those hands, once drafted countless law lecture notes and political platforms, now rested powerlessly on his knees, their skin lax and veins bulging like the bark of a tree weathered by wind and rain.
