_{A jar}

_{It’s stuffed to the brim with little hearts of varying colour, and there is a note, attached to the outside which says,} 

_{“All the little things,
                             To love about You.”}

_{And if you inspect each paper piece, there is an inscription in light, curvy script.}

_{“Your smile.”
                   "Your laugh.“
 ”The way you say ‘hello’.“
                   ”The way you say ‘goodbye’.“}

_{And tens of other things of the like- all simple, all subtle, and all in a handwriting which, by comparison alone, you cannot place. Yet it is familiar all the same; you can almost feel the person in the curve of the letters, because the handwriting just seems like them, on a page.}

Yet somehow, the name does not reach you.

                             – They who whispered to the wind.
[ Whispers to the wind, have made their way to you ] 

—

Familiar, yes, but somehow… distant. Hakuba gave a soft sigh as he reread the note, tilting the jar gently in his hand. He liked the way the light fell on the crafted paper pieces, and how the shadows stretched on those surrounding it. What a beautiful sentiment. So very kind, so very sweet.

The detective smiled, gaze moving over the words once more before gently setting it upon his writing desk – next to the dragon egg – and took a seat. He had work to do, of course, but this gift deserved a little more attention, a little more… wishful thinking. 

So he considered and daydreamed, letting the time slip by while he relished the warmth the anonymous token had proffered him.