The rainy season ended later than in previous years. On June 28, an extremely ordinary Wednesday, the girl "you" put a note in her textbook: "If I am gone one day, will anyone find out?" Then she did not come to school for three days.
"I" discovered it. On the morning when "you" said "Yesterday I killed someone", on the morning when "you" squatted at the door of your house soaked all over, "I" said the words that changed everything: "Then take me with you."
Along the railway tracks, along the river, along the rice fields and woods, the two people began an escape without a destination. Abandoned bus shelters, villages infested by wild boars, ginkgo trees that have been struck by lightning but are still alive, small white flowers growing in the cracks of the railway tracks, the smallest shell on the seashore - "you" say that life is saturated, like a glass of water that will overflow when it is filled with the last drop of water. Not too much, not too little, just right.
But the boy didn't die. "You" killed only the murderer you thought you were.
This is a story about two fifteen-year-old girls, about how to find the first ray of summer sunshine at the end of the rainy season, about how to put all the pain, guilt, and fear into a cup drop by drop in an endless escape, until the water surface stretches into a transparent arc. Saturated. Full. Then it overflows.
Concept: The real tragedy is not to die of despair, but to feel that enough is enough at the moment when you are finally loved.
