One person destroyed something, wanting to store his eternal attachment, while the other tried his best to repair the thing, repairing it, trying to find memories that he had never had before. One person once sat next to me, touching the cute heartbeat with his perverse maturity, and the other person once sat behind me, watching with unintentional eyes and complied with my willful violence. Another person is now sitting next to me, and his indifference can no longer withstand the melting of distance. A person is now sitting in a far away corner, still recalling the arrogance that I once had with unintentional eyes. I am not sure, I am not sure, but I feel it, but I am clear. I am clear about all the intentional and unintentional looks, words with or without words, and feelings with or without intention. I restrained it from bursting, from letting it vent, from letting it wander aimlessly and create unnecessary scars and pain. What was there between them? One person and another person, another person and one person.