I can't stand the passage of time, and I can't escape the young man here.
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Wedge
The setting sun that day was as usual, filling half of the sky with shimmering light and colorful clouds.
Tezuka saw Fuji standing on the opposite corner of the street among the endless flow of people, with his head raised in a large arc, as if his head was placed on the back of his neck, a particularly uncomfortable posture. It was a bit far away, and the expression on his face could not be seen clearly, and even the side profile was blurred in the afterglow, but you could see that his hand hanging on the left side was tightly holding the corner of his clothes.
Following his angle, Tezuka also looked up - a half-curved moon, hanging next to the white line left by the high-speed plane, like a nameless bean sprouted from vines in the courtyard.
When he withdrew his gaze and looked at Fuji again, he had crouched down, and the traffic had obscured his figure. All he could see was the maroon color above his head, which was still rushing out of his sight. In my ears, there was only silence, and I could only feel my own breathing slightly, slowly as if someone was drowning in water, losing consciousness and no longer able to deal with it.
By the time he reached where Fuji was standing just now, he had long since disappeared, leaving only a coin lying on the spot, glowing with a faint silver light. Pick it up and put it in your hand. When you hold it, there is only a cold touch.