One year, the October wind stirred the peaceful fallen leaves again.
That year, I was fifteen years old.
I followed the boy next door to the garden. I didn't know what I was going to do today, but I knew I had to follow him. I suddenly remembered that last fall, he came here with his sister.
I think he probably misses his sister.
We raked fallen leaves in the garden.
There are too many fallen leaves to sweep away, like tears in the eyes, constantly emerging.
I asked him: Why is there no one cleaning the garden and no one comes?
He said it was an abandoned garden, and no one knew or cared about it.
Was he talking about himself and his dead sister? No one knew or cared, and even his death was silent. Are you afraid that the sobs you reveal will keep your brother awake? I have no idea.
But I clearly remember that little girl.
She is ignorant and likes to follow her brother. She is shy and blushes when she sees strangers. When she is bullied, she only dares to look at her brother and shed tears. The blood from the corner of his mouth flowed behind his ears when he died, covering the scar. Even the regrets at death were only shown to my brother.
Dying in the expectation of thousands of people, this may be the first time in their lives that their brothers and sisters have been watched by so many people.
But this is not a good thing, and naturally there will be no good results.
I saw a deck chair in the garden, which was covered with dust.
Standing silently next to the recliner, his thin back and exposed neck because he lowered his head were particularly dazzling.
He probably misses his sister, I think.
Intention: Redemption in a boy's life, accompanied by a girl silently.