"他宽大的手掌总是以玩笑为名掠过我的发梢，指节擦过耳垂时带着灼人的温度‌。那些突如其来的环抱总在课间将我困在臂弯，青草味的校服布料摩挲着后颈，呼吸扫过颈窝像春雷滚过干裂的土地‌。当他的指尖假装不经意划过掌心纹路，我数着玻璃窗上的雨痕假装镇定，却听见胸腔里蝴蝶振翅撞碎肋骨的声音‌。那些被揉乱的校服领口、篮球场边佯装打闹的十指相扣，都在黄昏的光晕里发酵成酸涩的果酒‌。
His broad palm always brushes over my hair in the name of a joke, and his knuckles rub against my earlobes with a burning warmth. Those sudden hugs always trap me in my arms during breaks, the grass scented school uniform fabric caresses my back neck, and my breath sweeps over my neck like spring thunder rolling over the dry and cracked land. When his fingertips pretended to accidentally scratch the lines on his palm, I counted the rain stains on the glass window and pretended to be calm, but I heard the sound of butterflies flapping their wings and smashing their ribs in my chest. The crumpled collars of school uniforms and the playful ten fingers interlocking on the basketball court all ferment into sour fruit wine in the twilight glow."