Author: The Neon Dress of the Cold Wind

San Francisco on a summer afternoon is as blue as a wash. Pushing open the wooden window facing south on the second floor, you can smell the faint fishy smell of the sea breeze. At the very end of the view, there are the shadows of sails and the bay bridge across the sea.

There is an old song in the bar, tender and soothing, just worthy of this blue sky, blue sea, quiet streets, elegant cottages, and this beautiful afternoon that steals half a day's leisure.

There were not many people sitting on the second floor, and there were two beautiful girls sitting in the corner by the window. The slightly chubby one, with a blue silk T-shirt and a big red short skirt, is burning with flame in elegance. The one opposite was a typical oriental woman, slender and thin, and a quiet lily quietly bloomed in her white dress.

They exchanged an occasional glance and a few words. But what is piled up between them has long gone beyond words, and it is more than 20 years of acquaintance and acquaintance. On such afternoons, the gravitational pull of time also fluctuates slightly. What flows in their hearts in their eyes is the precipitation of memory. Maybe that's why if you're an insightful photographer and capture with your telephoto from afar, you can record the joy and pain that flashes in your eyes, sweet and melancholy.

The music suddenly changed, and it was an unknown piano concerto. The moment the note reached the space where they were sitting, the woman in white who was sitting upright like a jade sculpture suddenly opened her eyes wide, and there was a seemingly silent exclamation with her mouth wide open. Her companion pursed his lips and made a dismissive appearance, but his right hand hanging from his knee trembled slightly.

The piano concerto was repeated, almost the same melody and the same notes. For those who don't understand music, these two girls are probably the only ones who can hear two subtle differences - because they are dedicated to two different people. Even twin sisters are slightly different.

The last note passed, and the girl in the red dress had just raised her hand, and the attentive waiter had already stood beside her. She opened her mouth, but the instinctive "do it again" swallowed back. She has heard this song many times in her life. What's the point of repeating it again?

She licked her lips lightly, and suddenly found that the most beautiful youth had been trapped in this song that kept playing back for too many years. But, with your hand raised, you can't help but press the button for the replay again.

Her long eyelashes quivered, and she looked up at her friend across from her. As she expected, her eyes were already full of tears. She shook her head softly at her, took a breath, and her voice trembled a little, but she couldn't hide the courage to decide. No, she said.

The waiter was an elderly white man, and the corners of his mouth seemed to be forever hooked into a smile. He looked at the two pairs of teary eyes, and his tone was extraordinarily gentle: Beautiful girl, please forgive me for taking the liberty of being presumptuous. I can guess your pain, and the worldly pressures you face. But did you know that here, the streets of Castro, were our earliest spiritual home. As long as you have the courage, you can definitely 。。。。。。

He paused, and said word by word, together!

Thousands of miles away in the magic capital, the music genius who has a lot of opportunities for every day took out his mobile phone, and there was a line of beautiful small words on the screen.

We're in this together!

The corners of his mouth flickered, and after a while, he smiled back, and whom? Let me be happy too!

Another message arrived almost at the same time as his answer, a line of large, blood-red letters,

I... We ... At... One... Rise... Happy !!!!!!!!!! die!