On the ice, a lift leaves you weightless for three seconds.
For those three seconds, you give me all your weight.
Then you leave, and for the next six years, my world stays suspended in midair.
Only when you return does gravity take effect again.
This is a story about two people on the ice.
About how the shadows standing side by side at seventeen broke apart one winter, about the calendar on the white wall of the sanatorium, about one person's twilight beside the Charles River in Boston.
About the pills swallowed and the words "Don't go" left unsaid.
About how wounds heal where no one can see them, and how they are touched with care when we meet again.
The sound of blades cutting across the ice is soft, soft enough to hide a heartbeat. But some traces remain, some moments of weightlessness are remembered, and some people, even after learning to hide every emotion behind a smile, still remember in their bodies:
That winter, when you let go of my hand for the last time.
Theme: On the ice, a lift leaves you weightless for three seconds.
For those three seconds, you give me all your weight.
Then you leave, and for the next six years, my world stays suspended in midair.
Only when you return does gravity take effect again.
Is it the first person? It's quite rare~