The day you left without saying goodbye was the time when catkins filled the sky and invaded thousands of homes. From then on, every time this time comes, I want to become them, maybe float to where you live, find you, and ask for an explanation. After nine years of separation, you still pushed me away time and time again after we reunited, letting the catkins murmur and scatter in all directions without finding their direction. I finally gave up, but unexpectedly found that your heart is still the same as before and has never changed. But I have taken someone else's last name. The green years we left without saying goodbye have long since been lost. Has the love we left without saying goodbye also been scattered in the wind?