It's been a long time, and we haven't met again. Sometimes I would imagine a meeting, under the school wall, or on the gravel road in the park, or in the alley when we return home in the evening, the sun would illuminate our hair, the wind would blow up our clothes, and we would say the words that we did not say back then. But there are really not so many accidents in this world. We all ended up getting separated in each other's lives, and no traces can be found. It seems that those years were all made up by myself. I am afraid that these ruthless years will slowly take away even this fragmented memory of mine. So before I forget it, I mustered up the courage to write a love letter to the boy, to our best boy.
Conception: