I am particularly envious of the love story from school uniform to white gauze, and I also want to record a fragment that is mottled in my memory and that often comes to mind while wearing school uniform and having an ignorant love affair. That was the beauty of the past, but as adults we can no longer pursue such a pure love. It's not that love is dead, it's that we are no longer young, we no longer have the courage when we were young, we no longer write heart-pounding love letters because of the impulse to dream back at midnight, and we no longer shed tears because of a short separation. These youthful hormones will never come back again.
How many adults can blush and not care whether the person in front of them really likes their desperate confession.
Write a story for those who still believe in love.