Orange Light on the Platform

That summer, the two families took a long-distance train to Guilin together. He is the younger brother of my family friend. He doesn't talk much and always finds reasons to hang around me. On the platform where the train stopped, he bought two corns and handed the larger one to me. The platform lights were on, orange. The whistle blew, and he said, "Let's talk about it after we get in the car." Then he collapsed on the platform. Everyone felt that his cousin cried the most sadly. No one knew that I was still holding the corn he gave me in my hand, and there was a sentence stuck in my throat that I could no longer say. Fourteen years later, I got on that train again. This time, I want to tell those words to the wind.