Ginkgo leaves in midsummer
In the noisy junior high school campus with the chirping of cicadas, my encounter with him was like an unexpected breeze. That afternoon, I hurried through the corridor with my homework book in my arms. At the corner, I bumped into him who was looking down at a book. Yellowed exercise books and falling ginkgo bookmarks were scattered on the ground. The way the tips of his ears turned red when he bent down to pick up the bookmarks quietly planted a throbbing seed in my heart.
From then on, we always bumped into each other in front of the same row of bookshelves in the library, competed with each other on unsolvable math problems, and shared the same can of orange soda on the way to school. He would quietly stuff his collection of comic books into my desk, and I would nervously clutch cheering notes for him during sports meets. Youthful feelings are like spring vines, growing freely in the tacit understanding of each other.
However, the wave of further education swept us away. On the day of the graduation ceremony, he handed me a ginkgo leaf filled with formulas. There was an unspoken confession hidden in the veins of the leaf. Many years later, when I opened my junior high school diary again, those handwritings blurred by time recorded the purest love in my youth - that will never fade in the midsummer.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
