This is a story about Dehe trying to appear soft.
This is a story that J. K. Rowling hasn't had time to complete yet, which makes me regret that I am writing it.
--Hello. If I marry you.
--Um.
This story took root in the gray pupils.
The story spread out in the boy's slightly heaving chest.
This story blooms warm and brilliant flowers in the platinum sunlight and dark brown chocolate.
——If you are sleeping all your life.
——Then I will accompany you to walk through the old days.
This is a pathos that ends abruptly.
This is a song for you.
——So disgusting, nutria.
--Hello.
Please forgive me for the slow update by the loser author TAT