In the early morning when I was seventeen years old, I was hit by a runner.
He treated me to breakfast to apologize. I thought this was over. As a result, he became my new deskmate during self-study that evening.
His name is Wu Jiu. He doesn't talk much and his eyes are very light, but he can always look at me accurately when I'm not paying attention. We got to know each other inexplicably, from being at the same table to being friends, and from being friends to being closer than friends. I thought my days would go on like this - going to class, skipping classes, eating late-night snacks, sitting in a daze on the playground, listening to what he said that was neither salty nor bland.
But I didn't tell him that something wasn't right in my head. Those things keep me awake at night, make me suddenly not want to talk occasionally, and make me feel that all good things will go away sooner or later.
Later we separated. I mentioned it.
One early morning many years later, I was hit again on the street.
The man raised his head, his dark hair was crumbly and thick, and his lips were very light.
He said, "Didn't you look at the road?"
Concept: Regarding the miss in childhood and the reunion many years later, two people learned how to catch each other over time.