[The cool breeze blew through my fingertips and passed through my suddenly stunned eyes.
As a joke, a ball of paper fell on my desk, and unfolded in confusion. It was a delicate and clean handwriting, strange yet familiar. Suddenly, he turned his head and his smile was as dazzling as a bright flower blooming in the sun.
The spring and summer of that year passed by in a flash.
[A layer of cool snow covers the glass, crystal clear, and there is a sense of endless helplessness in the bleak wind.
He carried me into the back seat of the car, and I gave him my gloves and reached out to warm his ears. The cold wind hits the back of my hand. At this time, the car suddenly stopped. He took off his gloves and gave them to me, and said innocently: "Compared to my hands, my ears are colder."
This tone suddenly reminded me of what he said to another girl a few days ago.
Another one, or more than one.
[The wind finally changed direction.
Close your eyes, a cool breeze blows by. The leaves outside the window were rustling. Inexplicably, he remembered that pleasant afternoon long ago, with the corners of his clothes fluttering in the wind.
I stretched out my fingers, and only the sunlight shone through my fingers.
Another gust of wind.
Always changing direction.
But never once was it myself.
Your wind direction has always been the direction I am chasing.