The wind in the high school corridor is always filled with the chirping of cicadas and the smell of chalk dust. Their love started from small doodles on the edge of the scratch paper. After the monthly exam, she secretly wrote words of encouragement in the wrong question book; before morning self-study, under the white sky, he stuffed warm milk into the palm of her hand. They avoided the inspection of the class teacher and walked around the playground with the evening breeze blowing. Even the ten minutes of brief time between classes were like stolen candy, so sweet that people couldn't bear to swallow it.
In those days, there were disputes over poor performance, grievances caused by rumors, and even implicit opposition from parents. But after every quarrel, as long as you see the note handed to you by the other party, or the look in your hand when you pass each other in the corridor, all obstacles become reasons to hold each other tightly. They thought that as long as they persisted for a while, they would be able to tell "us" to the whole world after they passed the third year of high school.
But as soon as the senior high school bell rang in the September morning light, reality hit me unexpectedly. Maybe it was the difference in information that caused the two to drift apart, maybe he was not immune to it, or maybe they were young and discovered for the first time under the pressure of the future that some choices could not be controlled by courage. Those unspoken words were eventually hidden in the silence of walking side by side for the last time.
Later, the wind in the corridor still blew through the classroom doors and windows, but she never went to his floor again, and there were no more randomly refreshed snacks in her desk. It turns out that the strongest love in youth will be separated by the fork in the road of reality, just like the cicadas chirping enthusiastically in summer will eventually stop quietly when the autumn wind blows.
Concept: lost youth