The night spread through the car window, and Xie Zhao put one hand on the steering wheel, with the residual warmth of tobacco still remaining on his fingertips. The neon lights outside the car window receded rapidly. He closed his eyes, but the girl's red ears and the fleeing back flashed in his mind.
The car was so quiet that only the low hum of the engine remained.
When I got home, I pushed the door open and the entrance light turned on. He threw his coat on the sofa and turned to turn on the lamp in the living room.
The moment the light suddenly turned on, a hairpin decorated with delicate pearls lay quietly on the armrest of the sofa.
Intention: emotion
