- The cicada slough is still hanging on the original branch, and the sunlight passes through its translucent wings, reflecting tiny spots of light, just like how you looked when you smiled in the memory. But as soon as the fingertips touched it, the shell cracked, just like if we failed to catch it, it would be so broken that even the wind could not pick it up.
- The cicada slough on the branch still maintains a clinging posture, as if waiting for the missed appointment. There are still traces of the summer wind blowing on the cicada's clothes, but I can no longer wait for the cicada's original chirping. Just like I stand where I am, I can no longer wait for you who said "see you at the end of summer." The regret is engraved deeper and deeper in the lines of the cicada's slough.
