She loved winter.

  Due to her skin being pale and delicate as snow, the strong, unforgiving sun was like a torture for her during summer. Winter and to some extent, autumn, were the only periods of the year when she could be free, unshackled and happy to do however she pleased in the snowy garden outside.

  The dead trees didn't bring her any sadness, it only made her rejoice. They, one day, would regrow their luscious, vibrant green colored leaves. Their "death", was a symbol and a premonition of their imminent rebirth in the next seasons.

  Life was such a delicate tree, after all... our story, grows into "leaves", and our experiences are the countless branches of this tall tree, that one may or may not, admire from a third person view... but these "observers", are themselves, "trees" other "observers", may admire...

  But unlike trees, when people die... their leaves do not regrow, their branches do not extend, they... cease to exist... and even their trunk, eventually becomes dust...

  Or at the very least, that's what she thought...

  ...

  Her eyes slowly fluttered open... another memory. This one was more... clear. One thing she noticed with all of her predecent cognitive "comas", was the effective vagueness of each of her memory fragments.

  She didn't get extensive and comprehensive records of her past life, she always only caught glimpses and fizzles. It's like she had to give something in exchange to understand the greater picture.

  Yet... this time she could see the pale sky, the snowy, white neighbours, the fragrance of winter air... all in a more tangible, concrete memory. This put a smile on her face.

  However, she didn't dare to believe this would be a constant thoughout this journey, on the contrary, she was sure this was a huge outlier, in comparison to everything else that will resurface in her disordered subconscious.

  And now... she had taken a step past the door, the choice she had made. What greeted her beyond the veil, was...

  ...music.

  Or at least, what she thought was music. The realm this time appeared less chaotic, the colors more homogenous and delineate, still with an outwordly, mysterious touch in them...

  But the platforms themselves, they... were not crystals, they were pure color. Pure pigments that merged into odd shapes and forms, creating a solid surface over which she could walk. With slow and steady step, trying to get used to the melancholic and nostalgic rhythm of the melodies that made her heart clench with unknown feelings, she moved onwards...

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  The form of the figures, was quite... average, nothing grotesque this time. Figures of pets, figures of houses, figures of flowers... it all seemed average, an almost child-like innocence in these colorful combinations.

  But... a form, in particular, caught her attention. The form was the one of...

  ...a dead, withered, winter tree. She was not exactly baffled or surprised this time around, that something linked to her memory was what manifested in this world. She knew this journey would have been a trip down memory lane, after all...

  What actually surprised her, was the form of "letters", which combined themselves to create a barely clear, coherent word, under the tree: "Human".

  What even baffled her, was the tree's leaves started to regrow over branches that were all but dead, after a while, re forming a glorious, luscious corona of vibrant green leaves.

  ...

  Human? How outrageous, for the first time, she frowned in distaste. Humans couldn't just... return back to life like trees could! When humans died, it was the end, capolinea, finish!

  "Y-You are wrong. That's not a human. A human cannot just... do that, that's a tree!", she corrects the forms, her eyes narrowed in poorly conceived annoyance and confusion.

  But the forms didn't listen, and as if to spite her, they added the word "life", just next to the word "human", on its right.

  ...

  "S-Stop messing around... what are you trying to tell me. Death is the end, you can't just...", she felt her own breathing accelerate...

  ...but why was she so concerned about death?

  Why "death", bothered her so much. Sure, it was a sad thing, the climax and finality of life, but... why did such concept trouble so much? Why did the concept of an "end", of everything someone was, coming to a conclusion, triggered her sudden vomit inducing nausea that she barely contained, putting an hand over her mouth...

  ...

  Memories. That was another word that suddenly appeared... This time however, it was of a very pale, crystalline white color, so bright, it felt like looking at the sun... but what did that have to do with anything? Why "memories", what were they trying to tell her, she didn't--

  The forms converged together... they became an hand. In panic, she watched as they grow into an arm, and slowly, in an almost eerie sequence, they defined themselves into a clear, human shape... a shape that resembled hers.

  She couldn't move or understand, as the "shape", her "shadow", floats towards her, she could only close her eyes in fright, not seeing the "shape" pointing its index finger at her... until it was directly in front of her, and...

  ...a soft poke. Right over her heart.

  She blinked her eyes open, the faceless, indistinct shape of her figure, seemingly... friendly. Why did it do that--

  ...a sparkle of understanding bursted to life in her cognition. Human... life... herself and... heart.

  All, like a dead winter tree...

  "It'll bloom again...", she muttered, now aware of what the forms were trying to tell her. These forms were nothing more than vague memories of her past, deep in her almost broken, downing consciousness...

  And yet, they formed animals, houses, flowers, and trees... the words "human" and "life", the only words in this realm, she realized. And the biggest, most majestic form the...

  ...one of a tree.

  ...

  "...I see. I was wrong. I am such an idiot..", she chuckled, almost in satisfied defeat. "We don't cease to exist... death isn't "finality", it's no end..."

  ...

  "In one's heart, life will always bloom endlessly, through the memories of those we hold dear...", she directed a warm smile at the shape, which nodded such a joyous way, it resembled an immature, innocent child..

  "...growing forever inside us, carrying their cycle onwards...", the memory of the woman resurfaced, and tears ran own her cheeks...

  "...like the leaves of an eternal, beautiful tree."

  Memories never fade. They'll always carry on, and so will lofe.

  In our hearts... in the hearts of people.