A tiny bell, a borrowed coin, and a blizzard strong enough to swallow a voice. Somewhere out in all that white, the hotel's smallest employee has gone looking for the world.
Part 3 of 4 in The Last Guest of Winter
Por la tarde, el viento empezó a golpear las ventanas del Hotel Momiji. La nieve ya no caía despacio: volaba de lado, blanca y furiosa. Una tormenta de verdad.
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