The past does not follow the wind. In the blink of an eye, it has been twenty years since I graduated from college.
The sisters who were in the same dormitory back then never thought that in twenty years, the geese would go and return, and the vicissitudes of the sea would change, and the joys and sorrows would be separated. Those girls in memory, who still remembers what you looked like back then, and who still remembers your love story.
What I write is not a story, but the scars in life that I dare not touch easily.