The Period You Drew

I met a strange girl. She was always alone in front of a desolate grave. She would laugh, then cry; cry, then laugh. What kind of story could there be between the two of them? If it was sad, then surely it was sadder than sadness itself.

The light of youth shone on the faces of boys and girls, composing a dazzling, colorful song. Youth is also a time that can never return, both wind and light. You can’t touch it, but its burning warmth tells you it’s there!

“Your cooking is inedible! It’s all burnt!”

“No, it isn’t! It’s my first time cooking, so you have to at least try it!”

“I’ve never seen fried rice with eggs this burnt before.”

“Are you going to eat it or not?”

“I am, I am…!”