At the time, she was sitting on a bench by the lake, clutching a handful of golden willow leaves and tossing them into the water one by one, pointlessly.
It was winter.
At the time, she thought, This child must be terribly lonely.
After emerging from the cocoon and becoming a butterfly, I can never find the person who took care of the insect baby again. Even though I clearly understand, I still love you.
Most of the novels I write are very sad. Can you write some happy ending drama?
After emerging from the cocoon and becoming a butterfly, I can never find the person who took care of the insect baby again. Even though I clearly understand, I still love you.
Most of the novels I write are very sad. Can you write some happy ending drama?