Purple Movement in E Minor

This is a warm story about childhood sweethearts, school days, and love. I think it's pretty bland, and maybe everyone who sees it will have a similar experience. It's like a glass of water. But this glass of white water carries the temperature of the spring breeze in March. In the self-study class at school, when I wrote it down on paper bit by bit, my heart felt warm. I thought I could dye this warmth between the lines and bring it to everyone who saw it. The article is very short, and I am personally better at internal matters, so the plot may be lacking. I only hope that this story can bring everyone a little happiness after watching the undercurrent and the despair of love, like a warm breeze blowing through the hearts of the readers. And if all the readers can smile after reading it, it is the best affirmation for me o(∩_∩)o. This story happened in high school. This is the era that I am currently experiencing. I think I am not deeply involved in the world and cannot write about too many storms, so I have to edit the tiny details around me and cast a layer of fantasy about campus romance. It just wants to say—— In the passing years, after the fermentation of time, love and habits blend with each other or replace each other... After all, we are still young. Is what we think of love as love? Is true love in front of our eyes or behind our backs... Maybe you can understand it only after walking through it step by step. Our love is standing not far from us, quietly, waiting for us to look back...