They met on that hot summer day, during the heavy rain, she took him home, unable to speak.
When autumn came, she sat by the window, looking at the yellowing dead leaves falling in her hands, and murmured: "Who would hold a wedding in autumn?"
The snow in winter is so big that it covers all memories.
She sat by the window, watching him hurrying over, and jumped down.
He died seven years ago, and he only lived seven more years.
She smiled brightly at the corner of her mouth, remembering the girl seven years ago, and it turned out that this was how liberation was.
