That Year, I Was Eighteen

I dedicate this book to the love I experienced in my youth and to my remorse over her. This book is made up of my memories. The logic may be a little muddled, because I can only write down whatever comes to mind. I loved her, but I was the one who pushed her away with my own hands. …

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.