Library

In the quiet corridor on duty late at night, she guarded an unoccupied workstation and also guarded a heartbeat that no one knew about. He was the sender who appeared regularly, the stranger whom she remembered countless details, and the only light in the darkness. There is no confession, no intersection, only restrained staring and silent waiting. It wasn't until she finally asked a small question that she slowly understood-- She doesn't have to be obsessed with a certain beam of light, she can also leave her own traces in her own night.

I hope you can be loved by this world, and you can also love this world