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Your astonishment is my other life.
Does it still count when you say you like me?
It's only been three years, and I will return the original words as you said, with my pride, my unwillingness and my heart full of old joy.
You are very proud. You say.
These are words that will surely stick in my mind when I mention you.
When we first met, you considered me for three seconds and then opened your thin lips.
Word by word. One word per second.
You are very proud. You say.
People say that the memory of a fish is limited to seven seconds.
Those seven seconds are the memories you promised me for a lifetime.
I thought that you in the city of my memory had fallen apart and ceased to exist when I turned around and took the third step.
But it's not over yet.
A lifetime apart.
You are like a floating dust dream, dense and dense. I chuckle.
And you pushed me behind the door and pressed me against it. Qing Yan, "Where is your pride?"
I'm sorry for you. Allow me to let my destiny perish and arise.
But don't want to. You flick your fingertips, and the gorgeous Bordeaux undercurrent surges in the cup, disturbing my clenched joints and the restless mood in the room.
"Mysophobia? I left behind in Europe and forgot to bring it back. Now..." You brushed my chin frivolously, "I won't refuse anyone who comes."
Just like five years ago.
That quiet, clean, pure and beautiful boy who lives in my memory.
Morrie, does your love still count?