My story with you is forgotten in the tide. In the year when the flowers bloomed, we were still so innocent and beautiful. Happiness is a stick of ice cream in summer, sadness is the rainy day when I was separated from you. At that time, I always simply loved a certain boy sitting in front of the window, just like many people also loved me deeply. Every time you show that you love me very much, it's like you feel refreshed when facing a whole field of gardenias, but there is not even a single "I love you" between us to support this relationship. The broken rainy day, the sour tears, the end of the piano score, the ending of me and you.