Youth and first love are like a heavy rain. Even if you catch a cold, everyone is still looking forward to being showered again.
That year, that heavy rain made me meet the perfect you, my perfect first love.
The corners of your mouth raised slightly, and you edited my micro-movie with a smile.
Sometimes I spare myself, but sometimes I still miss you. Occasionally sunny and sometimes cloudy, with occasional showers.
I raised my chin slightly to prevent my tears from starring in my short movie.
You are the drunken first episode, and you are the subtle second episode. You are a fan of the authorities.
That year, the rain was also warm and the light was slightly cool.