I still dream of that boy to this day, even though we haven't seen each other for 5 years. 5 years is nothing for a long life, but I know that this number will be refreshed every time I go through the cold and summer, and it will gradually become considerable as I get older. Of course, my story does not have the violent background of the war in the Showa era and the student movement in the middle of the century. It is so ordinary that it cannot be more ordinary: it is a boy who has been in the same school from elementary school to high school. Although he has been in the same class before, he has been divided into different classes since high school Just started to like him. However, after graduating from high school, he has not heard from him. No exaggeration - no news at all. I've asked countless of our mutual friends and classmates, and they all don't know where he's going—what college he went to, where he's at, what's going on—and most aren't interested.
Of course, I didn't try as hard as Chiyoko did, I simply asked acquaintances. However, the result of failure is similar. It is a miracle that a person who lives in the era of information technology is able to survive so quietly. Maybe he just hates worldly distractions, so he doesn't need to use the Internet and hides in peace. So I don't ask him a thing or two in front of people. When I think of him, I savor the moments I had with him, the moments that were so young that I was afraid you would find them boring.
Once I inadvertently flipped through the diary I was forced to write down in junior high school, and it actually recorded a moment about him. I was really surprised and delighted.
At that time, he was sitting in my front seat. Halfway through his self-study study, his pencil broke. He threw the pencil into the table and muttered, "You're laid off!" Another campus silhouette that I picked up when I was forced to keep a diary - made me dream of him for several nights in a row. However, in the dream, he was like Chiyoko's painter, and he was just a passing back from beginning to end. Sometimes it is in the queue for exercises that are separated by a few rows, and sometimes it is mixed with the tumultuous crowd during the sports meeting. But in the dream I could sense he was there right away, as casual and smiling as ever.
Once again, I dreamed that I was sitting on the Great Wall in the dusky sky and sewing a quilt with a few women: scarlet satin and gold thread. I was wondering who he was sewing for. He came out of the beacon tower and handed me a letter and said to me: I am getting married.
When I woke up, I was so sick that I cried. Ashamed to say, I have never been a sentimental person, and sometimes I despise my children's affection, but I can't avoid stereotypes when it falls on myself. I don't know why because of this dream, the clear tears have washed my heart, but I remembered that I knew him when I was in elementary school. It was the first day of my transfer to the experiment. After school in the evening, I saw a group of people gathered when I walked through the playground. I approached and saw a handsome little boy in the center. His mouth choked on the sugar, and later I learned that this beautiful woman was his mother and a teacher at our school. This unexpectedly hilarious fragment of childhood memories was a treasure for me, and I kept reminiscing about it, making that afternoon in fourth grade dramatically rich and full.
I am now 12 hours away from my hometown, and it is very likely that I will never see him again, but I have these precious moments, and when I encounter any similar scenes, they will naturally surface in my memory, pulling the corners of my mouth up. ——Just like every time Chiyoko collided with someone or knocked on a cold closed door, the painter would tell her in her heart: You will return this to me next time.
It is precisely because the intersection occurs in an instant, so I have to constantly retouch it. I wish I could tear it apart, smash it and chew it every second, so that every nerve synapse of mine remembers the golden light and dust of the evening at that time. The breath, and then use my short life to continue to aftertaste, the aftertaste lingers.
How I wish I fell in love with you at the first sight when I was ten.
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