The resurrected people, along with the plane and houses that had mostly been restored, were gone.
I turned my head and saw the woman standing at the entrance to the apartment building.
She had probably heard the commotion, peeked out, and witnessed what had just happened before running outside.
The moment our eyes met, she darted back into the building like a rabbit. I had no idea what had crossed her mind, but she ran out again and bolted toward the edge of the complex without looking back.
I knelt on the ground for a long time, clutching the damp soil with both hands as I slowly felt my soul recover.
The threads that had been pulled out didn't come back. It was more like a plant: even if its flowers and leaves were plucked, as long as the roots remained, it would eventually grow again.
It was just growing rather slowly.
But the dead didn't necessarily come back.
I lifted my head and looked at the spot where my sister's clothes had been hanging.
I didn't cry. I didn't even feel heartbroken. The weakness and pain in my soul had overwhelmed every other sensation. But I couldn't look away, either. My mind was completely blank. My consciousness could register nothing but pain, yet I kept staring at that patch of dirt, over and over.
Only when the pain eased and I sensed a faint glimmer of light did I finally get up from the ground.
The eastern sky was turning pale.
Before I knew it, the night had passed.
The surroundings were still quiet, with no voices to be heard.
I heard a helicopter in the distance, as well as cars, though they didn't sound like private cars or buses.
A broadcast came from overhead.
I craned my neck