In the summer of junior high school, there seems to be endless hot wind and endless nonsense.
I remember his frown when he couldn't solve a physics problem, the half piece of eraser he lent to others, and his stubbornness when he came last when he ran 800 meters. These tiny moments, like a puzzle piece, made up my entire junior high school life, but there was only one missing piece - the look when he looked back at me.
On graduation day, he said goodbye many times, but they were not to me. The wind blew his voice away. I stood there and suddenly understood that for some stories, from beginning to end, I was the only reader.
Intention: It's been a long time... It's time to let go