Greif, a very peculiar thing; yet we're so helpless in the face of it.

It's like a door that will simply open of its own accord.

As wind blows in, the room grows cold. We can do nothing but shiver with the environment as one.

But somehow it decides to move once more. Little by little, and a little less more; and one day we wonder...what has become of it. Ourselves.

"Maybe this isn't the door I'm looking for. I think I might be in the wrong room. Yet I don't think that grief blew in the room. Because when I entered, no aura was sensed. It was hollow before."