I can't remember the first time I held hands with him. Maybe we never held hands once. I can't remember the first time I quarreled with him. Maybe we never blushed once. I forgot the first time. How many minutes and seconds have passed between us and his words, maybe we have never said goodbye once from beginning to end; I blur the pedestrian scenery I witnessed just a second ago, but I will always remember the scorching summer sun that was as cruel as the angry glare of a late mother on a July afternoon fifteen years ago.