I never thought that we could meet on that street corner again.
The time when we met was wrong, the time when we got to know each other was wrong, and even the time when we finally separated was wrong.
A series of mistakes caused fatal pain.
During the summer solstice that year, even breathing was painful when I think back on it.
At the summer solstice of that year, I lost you.
On the summer solstice of that year, I lost a close friend.
Mo said to me: "What happened between the four of us is not what he did, but what you did."