The dreamlike haze, as in a cathedral of Heaven and fairyland, where Miss Witch let the young man hold her.
"Alright, being born and dying is the natural order of life, day and night follow the same principle."
She kept patting the young man's back gently, like a tender wife,
"Life, it's not as good as you think, nor as bad as you think, isn't that what you told me? Whenever you lose something, you always gain something else."
She said.
"That was the thinking of sixteen years ago. Now, I dare not talk about anything with anyone, because as soon as we start talking, I'll miss every single person."
His voice was hoarse as he finally spoke.
He wanted to cry, yet he felt his heart was dryer than a desert.
"Once, there was a girl by my side who would always nag me to stay calm, and whenever I went crazy, she would frown and tightly grasp my sleeve."
"Later, my sleeves became light and fluttery."
Though he said so, his hands felt too heavy to lift again.
