In my palm, I hold three scars.
I heard people say that one represents marriage, the other represents wisdom, and the other represents life.
Every time I see you, I am happy, flustered, sweet, or sad... Every time I clench my fist unconsciously, and every time the three scars are deeper.
I may be too small, perhaps too ordinary, perhaps too insignificant, but, I love you, my love is no different from other loves, and they are all immaculate.
Sometimes, I stretch out my hand, look at the three scars, and ask myself warmly if I am afraid?
The joke is that death has nothing to worry about. After years of wind and rain, it is just that one willow bud is missing.
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