Why do people hate other people? Why do they treat them differently? Why do they want to step on the weak? There must be people who aren’t like that. Where are all those people? I thought if there were just one person like that, it would be nice. Since then, being alone was always more comfortable.
That girl’s door did not open for a long time. Invitations began to pile on her doorstep, two, then three.
A person who came close like a new breeze, a person who blocks a gale like a shelter from the wind.
For the first time, that girl grows afraid of her own desire to open her door.
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