In the scorching air, he walked out of this door, the door he had been fighting for for more than ten years. Off. The memory also made a clanging sound along with it. The rain was pouring along the eaves, the sky was overcast, and the fallen leaves stuck to the road, slowly decaying, settling, and reincarnating. It's a pity that people are reduced to ashes and there is no perfect week.
Conception: