Wheat Color

The year before last, I had nothing to do and chatted with a friend about my school days, and it turned out that my first love couldn't be avoided when talking about the past. But my friend just chatted for a few words and skipped this topic. I also knew what my friend was thinking, so I skipped the first half of my life. Yes, words can jump away, but thoughts cannot. I just listened to what my friend said later, and my replies gradually became perfunctory. I thought about her, her appearance, her clothes, her character, and everything about her. My mind became cluttered, a small part of the chat was all about her. I hurriedly said goodbye to my friends and drafted notes on my phone, wanting to write down my thoughts, just like I did when I graduated from high school. Stranger, thank you for reading this. I used to write about my thoughts when I was drunk, but it was very sloppy and messy. That article gave people this feeling, irritability. At least that's what I see. I figured there should be a complete story for her, and I should have one too. I'll just write it down. The following are half of my novels. (I don't know if it counts, but it should count. There are some things I can't remember clearly, and there are some things I don't want to write down in full.) I have selfish motives, but who doesn't? Even my bad friend God has... "Chen Zhi, you can't lie to me again." - Su