It was so dark in the large, empty room. Silence piled on top of one another, covering the air as cold as ice.
The calm and deserted air flow, dull and lingering, penetrated into the dark satin, stitch by stitch, every thread. In the center of the darkness, it was as if it had been scratched by a cold and sharp weapon, suddenly opening a dripping and wanton wound. The light is bright and ferocious. There is a burning sting.
The indifferent and beautiful thin lips evoked a faint smile, which flickered and faded, like the lights in the depths of the night alley.
The delicate and slender hands are like perfect and exquisite handicrafts. The sound of tapping the keyboard reminds me of the crisp spring water in the dark night.
It was a light, slightly gentle tone. In the calm tone, there seems to be many hidden meanings in the dark. It might be as complicated as a whole world, or it might be as simple as opening and closing your pupils casually for a moment.
He stared at it lazily and contentedly, and then gently raised his finger. The air swirling around the fingers quickly disturbed the stagnant turbidity and dispersed it.
The misty black coffee has been completely cooled, and the smooth rim of the cup still has a mellow and light aroma.