Little M said: "Cat, you have become lazy recently. I haven't seen your fingers move for a long time."
I laugh.
Only when the needle of memory pricks my eyes and the tears can't help but surge out, will I let my thoughts fly at my fingertips and blossom into decadent flowers.
At this moment, I am immersed in the warmth of happiness, and the wrinkles at the corners of my eyes are traces of smiles.
Where should I start?
Why don't you listen to me talk about "her" story...