The beginning of the story is always like this, just at the right time and caught off guard.
So we meet, get to know each other, and stay together.
The ending of the story is always like this, two flowers bloom, separated by the sky.
So friction, cold war, separation.
You buried your bones in the mud under the spring, but I sent them to the world with a head full of snow.
My thoughts are everywhere, and you are not here either.
Conception: