Orange Balloon

Some people say that secret love is a person's chaos. The chaos in my memory has the smell of August grass, a sudden heavy rain, and a young man wearing a yellow coat. I failed to catch the orange balloon he handed out; I misunderstood his silent companionship. It wasn't until ten years later, when I was no longer a child in need of candy, that I finally understood that "clumsy courage." It turns out that all the sudden stops are to teach us: You don't need to borrow anyone's light, you can become the moon yourself.