You have nothing to do with me one day.

But when I saw the photos of you separated for seven months, my sad hands kept shaking.

But for a moment I forgot everything except crying.

Now I see teenagers in green uniforms, and I find that none of them are as good-looking as you. None of them are as beautiful as you.

I keep telling myself that this is the past tense.

It doesn't matter, it will pass after a long time.

But you see, we haven't been together for seven months, but I've been thinking about you for so long.