A story about love

Just separated with Blue, Blue is a very nice girl, beautiful and gentle. Many friends said that I was a fool to let her go. Even though it was hard, I still had to let her go.

The 1st day

 

Using her blanket and covering herself tightly, she didn’t get up. Her dorm mates were afraid to go in and comfort her. She didn’t eat anything the whole day, didn’t wash her face or brush her teeth. At night, I could hear her crying beneath the blanket.

The 2nd day

She ate today, forced down by her roommates. Her eyes were red. I always called her “Cry baby”. She always squirmed her mouth and retorted: “No, I’m not.”

The 3rd day

Today, she dressed very sexy, walked into a bar and drank a lot of alcohol. Using tempting moves, she surveyed the room. Many men came up to her and flirted with her telling her how beautiful she was. She drank a lot more. When a much older man, old enough to be her father, walked up and said: “Miss, let me take you home,” she splashed her drink onto his face. As the older man got ready to slap her, Mu showed up and saved Blue. I know all this because I was watching from a corner in the bar.

The 4th day

Today, she got up really early. After busying around all morning, she locked herself inside the bathroom. When her roommates opened the door, they were amazed: “So clean.”

The 5th day

She began studying. She had done very well in school before.However, when we got together, her grades deteriorated. It is good to focus on something else as it will improve recovery.

Three months later

She became president of the Student Vnion. She is becoming more and more able. She also becomes more open. Soon, she will need to prepare for graduate school.

One year later

There are many men beside her, many who are better than me. She never takes notice of them, but she gets along with Ling very well. There are rumors about them in school. She treats him like an elder brother, but rumor cannot be blocked.

Three years later

She is getting married. The groom is Ling. She is writing wedding invitations. After she wrote one, two, and three … 12th card, she bent over the desk and tears fell down uncontrollably. I stepped forward and saw that on all the invitations, the groom’s name was mine.

I want to cry too, but ghost cannot cry. I do not have any tears.

Three years ago, when I was carrying her birthday cake crossing a street, a car crashed into me.