That summer, the wind gently blew through the classroom curtains, and the sunlight shone on her desk. He always sits diagonally behind her, following her back with his eyes inadvertently. She likes to draw, and the pen tip slides gently on the paper to outline the world in her heart. And he was just a vague shadow in her world.
There was never a real conversation between them, just occasional glances and heart-pounding moments. Until the day of graduation, the wind blew away her drawing. He bent down to pick it up, but never had the chance to hand it to her.
Many years later, he accidentally discovered a picture album at a used bookstall. When he turned to the first page, familiar brushstrokes outlined his profile. It turned out that she was also secretly drawing him.
It's a pity that the wind stopped at you, and I stopped at that summer.
Intention: No