The vehicles coming and going, the pedestrians walking and stopping, and us, who are so innocent in our memories, all seem to be a painting painted by time. Hidden in someone's heart, and the story is hidden in the painting.
-- Wedge
Chapter 1
Stories within stories. The wind blows the fallen leaves
The wind in June will blow away some people, and no one knows who will disappear from whose world. Is the person who accompanied you through the evening breeze still young at that time? In the coming summer, will you still hold my hand and continue running...
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
