The fog had swallowed the street in a heavy silence. She was walking slowly away; clad in a red dress—the only vibrant color in that gray morning—she seemed to be carrying off the last shred of hope. A few paces behind, the man walked on—not to catch up, but to see off something that no longer belonged to him. Neither looked back; for some farewells are not spoken with a glance, but find their meaning in the distance that widens with every passing moment. And that day, love neither ended nor endured; it simply vanished into the fog...