The names on the wall spread from the ceiling to the corners, never sparing any corner, like unyielding resistance, like unwilling resentment, like a desperate struggle.
The bright red color stung Tony's eyes like blood. A scene like this suddenly appeared in front of his eyes: In this small, enclosed space, the blond man was lying on the ground, leaning on the wall, writing almost crazily, over and over again, line by line, as if he wanted to carve these four simple letters into his non-existent heart, as if he wanted to remember him for life after life, until his blue pupils became as red as the handwriting.
? He has to remember! He needs to remember! He wanted to remember his name, remember that he... Had loved him so much.
At the end of writing, it was obvious that the virus had struck, and the handwriting was already frivolous.
The next memory was chaotic. Tony only remembered that he ran out of the building like crazy and ran to the street. However, the streets were bustling with people. Where could he find the shadow of Jarvis in this vast world?
In the end, he was like the dew in the morning, like a kite with a broken string, like an unfinished dream, disappearing into this world forever along with all his memories, going to a distant place he didn't know, and never coming back.
In the end, they were like those two stars at different heights. After a brief intersection, they each took completely different trajectories.
Conception:
