At the age of seventeen, they had a crush on each other through the car window and never said a word. He boiled a carton of milk every day and put it on the stop sign, and she wrote the date at the bottom. He named her "Eaves" in his sketchbook, and she later used this character as a pen name for seven years. We parted suddenly in the late autumn of the senior year of high school, and when we met again at work seven years later, he said the first thing he said: "I drew in a sketchbook for three years, and wanted to go to the same university with the same person." She replied softly, "Me too." The evening wind that blew away when she was seventeen took a long way around and finally reached the other side.
Intention: Halfway through the journey is not a regret, it is still on the way.
