Five years ago, I left a city for a reason. Five years later, Wenya dragged her big suitcase and walked on the familiar road. Behind her stood her friends who always smiled. They often said: "I will wait for you here, one year, five years, even ten years. As long as you come back, I will always be here waiting for you."
Time is cruel. When it gives you permission to squander it, it also robs you and even the lives of those around you. We have passed through youth and had our years, and slowly grew up without knowing it. Then we realize that after we have only passed our years, we are left with only empty rooms and lonely hearts.
Turning my head, the setting sun shines on the road ahead, I pick up my luggage, put away my loneliness, and turn around without saying goodbye. . .