That Summer Cassette

Back in the 1990s, during the summer vacation when I was twelve years old in a mountain village, I only had an old game cartridge in my hand, and prophetic dreams that kept flashing and disappearing in an instant. I thought I could keep everyone I care about by starting over, but later I realized: Time pushes everyone forward, and no one can stay in that summer where cicadas chirp all over the sky forever. My deskmate left a word "go" and quietly transferred to another school, my cousin turned away and never looked back, my playmates moved their families, the old house gradually became deserted, and the village primary school was finally closed. There are no counterattack cheats, only small regrets hidden in the fields, on the desks, and by the reservoir. Those people and time that cannot be grasped will eventually leave only tables full of dust and empty playgrounds. It is written to all those who grew up in the countryside in the 1990s and have a summer in their hearts that they cannot get back.