The simple throbbing I once felt, just because of the other person's words, a text message, and a look, I was hurt and closed the door in my heart, and others were also hurt. Loving and being loved, hurting and giving, are they still stuck in the fixed frame of the love trilogy, wandering and waiting, seemingly ruthless than sentimental.
In the story, there are you and me, our past and our present. We are reminiscing, searching and confused. Why does love always love and be loved first before choosing? Is it a fixed pattern of love or are we all wrong?