I turned around, you looked at me and smiled with relief.
Just like the rising sun that year, the glow and the stars.
I looked up at the white clock over and over again, leaning against the cold marble window sill and looking at the dim swaying light of the street lights. I raised my head and lowered my head and couldn't help shaking my feet, thinking about the matter countless times. I quietly ravaged the note filled with dense handwriting in my hand, or I couldn't help but look back at the fork in the road in the evening.
You said you couldn't forget it.
And I believe it.
Intention: Well, you just want to tell an inexplicable story?