The wind in the corner of the corridor always likes to hide his thoughts.
Hidden in her sketchbook is the unfinished back of a white shirt. The moment the hair rope was tied tightly, the light spot in my heart suddenly took shape, and even the sound of the basketball hitting the ground became the beat of my heart.
Before the wind of late summer had blown far, some heartbeats had quietly sprouted - it turned out that he remembered the direction she ran to Class 7, and it turned out that every stroke she drew fell into his eyes.
This is about a hair tie, a sketchbook, and an entire adolescent, chaotic love affair.
Intent: Ginkgo leaf's apology