On a summer night at the end of May, the night ended the hustle and bustle in this city. The neon lights flashed outside the window and the air conditioner rang from time to time.
Sitting in a small rented room, I lowered my head and wrote a paper.
The light in the room casts a hazy, glass-like color on the body.
The pen in my hand was almost out of ink, so I subconsciously opened the drawer and rummaged through it.
There was a green diary inside and I pushed it in again.
People always like to be self-righteous in relationships
First person diary format tells the story of two girls
Intention: Remember the year of the confession, to 16-year-old Green