I sat quietly in the car with my chin in my hand, looking at the scenery through the window in boredom. Passengers in the waiting room are getting on the bus one after another. Because it was only three or four o'clock, everyone's spirits didn't look very good, and everyone had their heads hanging down.
The pretty girl checking the tickets was making a broadcast, and there was another passenger who didn't get on the bus. The car stopped, the morning light shone, and everyone waited indifferently.
I leaned my head against the car window and looked into the distance with dull eyes. I thought about a lot of things, some old things about my short twenty years of life, the dazed profile of the young man next to me at that time, and the sly smiles that appeared after whispering.
Those old things may be what I am nostalgic for.
Conception: