April Flower

About This Novel

That year, he was thirty-nine years old. Being thirty-nine is a bit embarrassing for a woman. When you look in the mirror, you can often see the gray hair hidden in your hair. The face is not as bright as the twenty-year-old, and the calm color invades you unconsciously. You hate time, fearful, and hopeful. In the early morning, the breeze blows, and standing in the sunshine, you forget whether you are thirty-nine or twenty-nine. You smell the scent in the air when you were eleven or twelve, along with a snap there, or a bird call. The air is the same as before, the sunshine is also the same as before, exactly the same as when I was a few years ago. You are eleven years old and in elementary school. As you walk, you take out a small round mirror from your pocket. You look at your face in the mirror, look at one of your eyes, then look at the other eye. You don't like double eyelids. The double eyelids remind you of the neighbor's aunt, wearing leggings, half-big feet, and a pair of round-toed shoes.

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