We were people who were not destined to each other, but were destined to go the same way.
We waited for New Year's Eve balloons together, exhaled in front of the convenience store freezer, and shared the same song "Unrequited Love" on our headphones. Those late-night drinks, early-morning bus rides, sudden visits on campus—all the clear and shallow details have shone.
It wasn't until the airport gate swallowed up the shadow that I realized that some encounters were just a millimeter of track crossing. The fireworks dissipated, the traces rose, and we finally returned the map leading to each other in the circulating terminal.
Not to mention a pity, nor a fluke. Only occasionally at dusk in a strange city, I think of the unpunctuated "Happy New Year".
Fellow travelers, it turns out that we can only share a part of the road together.
Concept: The traces of intersection in the fireworks illuminate each other's journey, and then they each walk towards the sea of people.