We once stepped on the street lights at 2:30 in the morning, and the shadows were stretched longer than a lifetime. He always said that there was a fire in my nineteen-year-old eyes, which made his twenty-six-year-old life a little brighter.
Those days were hot in the palm of my hand. I got up at four o'clock to chase the sunrise. The mountain wind blew my hair onto his shoulders. When he put his arms around me, the first golden red streak appeared on the horizon. You could pick up small crabs on the beach after the tide went out. He held up the hem of my skirt and taught me how to identify shells. , When the waves covered our ankles, we laughed louder than the sound of the waves; the breakfast shop at 3:30 always smelled of mushrooms and fresh meat wontons, and the plastic stool was rickety. He popped the soft-boiled egg and pushed it to me, saying, "Little girl, you need to eat more."
At night when thousands of lights were flowing on the car windows, I was sitting in the passenger seat counting the street lights, and suddenly I said, "I like you so much." His hand holding the steering wheel paused, and when he turned his head, the light of the streetlight fell on his eyelashes. His lips brushed across my cheek, as light as a feather, but I was convinced at that moment that I would be his for the rest of my life.
At that time, I always felt that love could fill all the gaps. The warmth of the second button of his shirt, the conch he picked up in my hair, and the candied haws he ran to buy for me at the market in the early morning were all proof that I thought I could survive the years.
It's just that the end of the story came earlier than expected. It was like a grand fireworks that lit up the entire sky between each other when it exploded, and when it ended, only the residual warmth of the sparks on the ground was left. When he was 26 years old, he failed to wait for me all his life. The eternity I promised when I was 19 years old finally became an insurmountable temperature difference.
