Andrei leaned back, closing his eyes. He hummed the rest of the song to himself—the part about how the heart, once frozen by "later," never truly thaws. He hadn't loved enough when the sun was high, and now, in the long shadow of his life, he finally understood: youth isn't for preparing to live; it is for living.

Then came the Great Flood. The river reclaimed the valley in a single, violent night. Andrei spent those hours saving his livestock, hauling sacks of grain to higher ground, obsessed with preserving his "future." When he finally fought his way to Elena’s house, the porch was gone, and the girl who had waited for a "later" that never came had been swept away by the current.

For the next sixty years, Andrei lived in the house he eventually finished, but it never became a home. He realized too late that the barn was full, but his heart was a drafty, empty room.