The nursing home sat on a hill overlooking the Han River, a sterile white building that smelled of antiseptic and boiled vegetables. It was a place where time moved slowly, where the elderly sat in wheelchairs and stared at the horizon, waiting for something that never came.
Ha-neul and Jae-won found Mr. Ahn in the garden, bundled in a thick woolen coat despite the mild weather. He was ninety-two years old, his face a map of wrinkles, his hands gnarled and trembling. But his eyes, his eyes were sharp, watchful, like a bird's.
He was listening to the wind. When they approached, he did not tur