[Seven-Day Book] Seven Memories are like a river, small things make the foundation, traumas fall to the rocks

As a Scorpio, she is probably not qualified, her memory is fragmented, and only fragments of her childhood memories remain. All the names of those she had liked were blank, and she could not even recall any interactions she had with them.

But there once was a boy who always touched her head when passing among the rows of desks and chairs in the classroom.

The nine-year-old girl was confused at first, frowned when it happened again, and became unhappy when it happened a third time.

In an era when head-touching or wall-dumping had not yet been exaggerated into romantic plots in Japanese and Korean dramas, such a touch did have an element of intimacy, but she was probably confused by the unwarranted closeness.

It was also because she had a tough temper and the way they stretched out their hands to pat their heads when they were about the same height felt like they were tainted with the class distinctions of upper vs. lower, high vs. low. Thinking about it now, she probably had to understand this kind of social construction classification system since she was a child. Allergic, no wonder when you grow up, you are allergic to all the behaviors of the majority bullying the minority.

So the boy's silence, finally trying to break the ice, probably sent the wrong message.

There is no beginning, so there is no end. After being classmates for two years, they finally separated into classes and parted ways, becoming just passers-by in each other's memories. Memory is like a river, and trivial things make up the memory of the river bed with gravel. Occasional landslides and rockfalls cause trauma, and the people or events passing by are probably just driftwood drifting with the current, right?