It's that man again.
The sun poured down from his head like water, and the thick eyelashes were broken and flecked with golden light. The slightly sickly white skin has a transparent texture, like a fleeting angel. When he saw me standing at the door, he smiled warmly.
I sighed softly, such a good man - holding a scalpel for more than ten years, but his own destiny was controlled by the scalpel.
But fate is always so uncertain.
When I woke up, I changed from what people call an "angel in white" to an errand girl in a medical store. In this strange time and space, the future is a confused word. But I am not afraid, because that familiar face is always with me.