In the second class of high school, there was only an aisle between me and Jiang Yi.
At the high school sports day, he handed over an unscrewed bottle of mineral water. I remembered this little incident for two years. I originally had good grades in liberal arts, but I insisted on choosing physics and chemistry, and faced papers full of red crosses every day.
I felt very inferior, so I only dared to peek at him secretly while he was lowering his head to do the questions. I wrote his name on the scratch paper and quickly erased it with a correction tape.
We would pass notes to ask questions, share an umbrella when it rained, and take evening walks around the playground. Both of them have a crush on each other, but neither one dares to say it out loud. There was gossip in the class, and I was afraid of being criticized, so I took the initiative to keep my distance from him.
The reality of senior high school is before our eyes. He was going to study in a university in the north, and my family asked me to stay in this province. The half-meter distance in the classroom has become a reality that separates most of China. We slowly became ordinary classmates.
The college entrance examination was over and the campus was noisy. We just passed each other without confessing or saying goodbye properly.
When we met again at a classmate's wedding a few years later, I found out that on the day of the college entrance examination, he had planned to confess to me.
The love I had when I was a teenager stayed in that summer.
Purpose: to record the youthful emotions of young people and face up to the silent misses in youth.