Gently, he lifted the paper lantern. The flame flickered slightly in cool winter breeze. He closed his eyes before pushing it away. The wind embraced the ruffling paper, carrying his message, towards the starless heaven.
I remember spending my childhood, sitting on his lap, listening to tales. Still ringing in my ears, is that one lesson he taught me ages ago.
My grandfather said that the art of losing isn't hard to master. Yet, year after year, I watched him send letters to grandma, lovingly tied in the flimsy lantern.
Maybe I will never master this art. Just like him.