I still like you, like snow blanketing the mountains at dusk, freezing everything for ten miles.
I still like you, like being lost in a dreamscape, unable to tell up from down.
I just stand here, watching those people go through their joys and sorrows. Here, I am an outsider.
And what traps me is a situation of my own making, one I don't want to escape.
Just a storyteller, recounting the tangled affections of those people. By the time I can untie my own knot, it won't be too late.
[The author is hopeless at blurbs.] Anyway, these are just little thoughts from youth, written whenever inspiration strikes. I'll keep updating bit by bit. (???_??), First published on Jinjiang. Reproduction prohibited. If you don't like short stories, just move along. One last thing: Pear is a fruit who can top or bottom, be pounced on or coaxed. Feel free to hit me up.
