I recognized you in the blink of an eye, but maybe it wasn't like this, and I don't know how I fell into it step by step. In the end, I didn't know how to speak, and I still missed you after all.
We met in the flower season, got to know each other, but didn't know each other. What is the definition of the last wave of goodbye? I hope we can meet again in the same city, but I know this may not be realistic.