I stared blankly at the last sunflower withered, and felt that my cheeks were a little cold. When I touched it, I realized it was tears.
Will the memory of him and me really disappear with this sunflower?
——He really doesn't want me to wait any longer?
Flowers bloom and fall, their origin and destiny disappear. The overlapping years have made me understand:
It turns out that none of this matters anymore.