Fifteen and Fifteen

I thought it was a faint stroke of youth, but I didn't expect the traces of pen and ink to be so vigorous. His words "so familiar" brought back memories again, but she didn't have the courage to say "do you still remember me?" Is that youthful ignorance, pure and pure love the beginning of love an afterthought? Or is it the obsession with changing time? My fifteen-year-old lover, can you come back for me? *Short story be *The last article in the "Graduation Season" series Intention: What is not perfect is called perfection