The fog in the sky is gray and dark. It's wet, my face is wet, and my heart is cold.
Walking on the street, pedestrians pass by in a hurry. Watching their faces turn into backs in an instant, the feeling was so familiar that it was heartbreaking. Is this the end of the story? Or is it the beginning of another story? People who sprint towards another crossroads in life will reinterpret life and love. You can, and so can I. The stories in the novel are illusory, and the feelings in the illusory are so sincere.