The thick green in midsummer is like your lingering thoughts. You stretched your neck and stared at the star outside the window for a long time, until the corners of your eyes were wet and your chest tightened. The city was brightly lit, and you gently stroked your chest. There was a warm touch between your fingers, and your heart was still beating brightly. You calm down and fall into the warm bed. In the dream, there are no monsters, no bad guys, and no darkness in front of you. There is a distant boy who you have never forgotten but will never echo, and there are also invisible glimmering stars. I have a glass of wine, which is enough to comfort me. Can you tell me your story?