It's the first time I've written a story that doesn't belong to me, but it seems like my own shadow is faintly there... I can't explain the feeling clearly. In the spring of 1999, I was abandoned in an open space full of red anemones outside an abandoned factory... ---Mannie We can always be used to being tolerant of everything we are familiar with, but harsh and perfect towards the unfamiliar surroundings. But this is natural, after all, only the unknown will make people have more expectations. I was moved to the back of the car by the sudden start of the driver and the crowd of people... "Sorry" I tried to straighten my crooked body, and what I saw was a pair of slightly pale fingernails. Bloodless moisture, as white as a frozen corpse. I put away my somewhat contradictory eyes like a hedgehog. The man stood sideways in the aisle, his slender figure forcing him to lower his head to avoid messing up his carefully crafted hairstyle. The suit and tie look looks unique. The man looked back at me. It seemed that he was also trapped in the car and he was very unhappy. There is a mustache between his nose and lips, which looks like a designed shape, and it is decorated as it should be... But no matter what it is, I haven't bothered to learn about these old gossips about him yet. Moreover, it is temporarily unforgivable that his out-of-the-box thinking sometimes seems to be infected with a mental illness that is difficult to get rid of. It tortures my sensitive nerves all the time. When I turned around, I thought, maybe I am worried about my aesthetic taste. "Don't worry, there will be absolute pressure on the whole audience." Muffled laughter came from the speaker, "Okay, I'm waiting for you to dominate the crowd."Br>
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