The summer he remembers was the season of parting.
The river ran through the city, the air was heavy and sultry. The asphalt road became soft under the scorching sun, giving off a bitter smell. Next to the sidewalks, there are lush and leafy French sycamores, robins hide in them and sing, the leaves don't sway at all, the cool breeze becomes a luxury, and there is no comfort for the irritable mood.
Permission, I don't want to go, not even a little bit, the sister said to him, I'd rather be with you every day with your head in the clouds, and as she spoke, her eyes flicked away. The fourteen-year-old girl was at an awkward age, she didn't care or didn't know how to express her loss, whether it was joy, sadness or anger, and her words were always sarcastic towards him.
Behind her, her mother was busy, the room was becoming empty, the suitcases were full of clothes.
At night, an orange moon hangs in the sky. Downstairs, in the open space or at the end of the alley, adults sat on bamboo beds in recliners and chatted with each other, while children chased each other and played. The Milky Way was clearly visible overhead, and occasionally a shooting star or two passed by; everything seemed calm and quiet, just like any other day.
That night that year, his family fell apart.
Well, it's not that big a deal. Human life is just a moment of cosmic dust passing through the firmament, not to mention the fact that things change, like the stars.
He spent seven years leisurely, albeit a bit lonely.