Mina Crying Midnight Forest Bench Amoled

The moon is the only witness to a grief that refuses to end.

You walk into a pocket of the woods where the fog never lifts and the air tastes like old rain. She sits on the weathered slats of a bench, her face hidden in her palms as her doll lies discarded in the dirt. The button eyes of the toy stare up at the canopy, unblinking and indifferent to the tears hitting the forest floor. There is a specific kind of silence here—one that doesn't just lack sound, but actively swallows it. If you want to see her when the crying stops, you can meet Mina in the other corners of the ward.