When I met her for the first time, I found that she seemed to be saying goodbye to the world. I wanted to save her for no other reason than that I hadn't said hello to her yet.
The second time I saw her, I found that a small hand was holding the corner of her clothes. I was very happy because I introduced myself to her.
The third time I saw her, I found that she had softened a bit. She was willing to talk to me and would come to me. I always treated her differently.
I was a little smug, I felt like I had seen through her thoughts, I understood her, and she understood me, and we sympathized with each other.
…………
The last time I saw her was a rainy day. She said goodbye to the world, with satisfaction and a smile. Maybe I should be happy too, because she also said goodbye to me, with blessings.
But I regret, why didn't I meet her earlier, why was it so late, why...
From then on, I began to hate blood
Purpose: This is a warm story