Countless times, I traced his name with my fingertip on my desk, committing every stroke of it to memory with a heart that felt more than a mere flutter: every horizontal, hook, vertical, bend, and turn.
Until we ran into each other years later.
He was surrounded by friends, chatting and laughing
"That guy's Wen Ran from Class Nine. Do you still remember him?"
"Wen Ran? I don't really remember him."
-Youth is nothing but a nonstop series of missed chances.
-It was my honor to pass by the time you were in full bloom.
The final lines are quoted from the internet.
A short story about a secret crush / third-person narration / written to fill in a gap
It went nowhere, but it wasn't completely one-sided.
Theme: A secret crush is a solo fantasy
