If it were you, I'd be happy with it.
In the midsummer of seventeen years old, she met her spring.
The domineering school bully leaned against the railing of the corridor, his Adam's apple rolling as he looked at the little coward huddled in the corner, holding on to his clothes.
Everyone else thought she was withdrawn and cowardly, and avoided her. He was the only one who swaggered to her desk, tapped the table with his fingers, raised his eyebrows and shouted: "You little coward, let me copy your homework."
She shivered with fright and buried her head lower, unable to even hear the word "good".
But he squatted down, forced her to look into his eyes, and said in a very soft voice: "Don't be afraid, I don't eat people."
Concept: Two-way redemption of youth and gentleness
