The late summer wind carried the scent of sycamore leaves and spread through the half-open door of the piano room.
Some things on your mind don't need to be revealed or revealed, they just need to be hidden in the chirping of cicadas, the sound of the piano, and a crumpled candy wrapper.
That unclosed door, that stumbling afternoon, and that unspoken love became the gentlest footnote of the entire summer.
Intention: Don't get close to curly hair