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I want to reach out and touch the dusk season, the old peeling paint on the house door, the dry and boring air, and you in my memory.
The old body is waiting for the old attic in the old alley. The stagnant black image is reflecting the old love.
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If memories are as hard as steel, should I smile or cry?
If steel corrodes like memory, will this be a happy city or a ruin?
▽Short story
▼The heroine is an earthbound spirit
▽CP Heizi
▼This is even... Exam congratulations? ←_←
Cover source~~Love Picture Shop→