I often feel that the world is very big, so big that it wouldn't make much of a difference if I didn't exist. But when I was a child, the world was very small, so small that nothing happened without it being related to me.
It's the dog days of summer again, the season with many stories. Along with the uncomfortable heat, the sound of cicadas, and the unique smell of air conditioning that fills my mind, there is a figure that suddenly left and a sentence that I will never have the chance to respond to. It was the intersection of two children in a vast world.
On that day, the summer wind blew away the floating willow catkins and scattered the graduating class. It was my last time returning to school before leaving, and as I patted the hot seat of the car, small specks of dust flew up. The dust gathered by chance on my car seat, and as I patted it, it scattered, moving on to where it should go next, just like our enrollment and graduation.
The relationship between me and my classmates was not close. At that time, I liked to act cool, and building relationships with others would ruin the sense of mystery and aloofness that I thought I had. So on that day, while everyone was exchanging yearbooks, I secretly slipped out of the classroom, ready to disappear forever from my classmates' world. I pushed my bike out, walked out of the school gate, and started thinking about how to relax after going home.
"Hey! Wait a minute!" Just as I was about to get on my bike, a girl called out from behind me.
"What's up?" I turned around and glanced back. It was a girl from my class. We hadn't really talked before. I stopped and waited for her as she ran over, panting.
"Let's walk and talk? The sun is so hot." She smiled and didn't give me a chance to refuse. "Why did you leave early? You didn't even take the yearbook, so I brought it for you."
"I didn't write anything because I didn't want to bother. Even if you give it to me now, I won't be able to give it to them." I took the thick stack of paper and couldn't help but laugh and cry.
"You should still write something. There will be a presentation in a few days, and you can bring it then."
"I don't want to come. What's the point of listening to a presentation..."
As we walked and talked, we chatted about many random things. Although I wasn't very familiar with this person, I knew some things about her. Although I rarely participated in class affairs, I still knew about the big and small things in the class, so the conversation wasn't too awkward. The process of chatting was also a process of reminiscing, with each word bringing back memories of carefree school days.
"Actually, I feel like the boys in our class are quite handsome," she suddenly said for no reason. I was stunned for a moment. Was she talking about that basketball game? Or...
I suddenly understood her intention. I had heard that she liked Liu, a classmate who had a good relationship with me, and she wanted me to help convey her feelings. Although I admired Liu's elegance and talent, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dissatisfaction in this situation.
"Am I handsome too?"
"Well... handsome," she suddenly lowered her head, and her gently swaying hair covered her face, making it hard to see her expression. She fell silent for a moment, and we stopped walking. "But maybe not the kind of handsome you want to hear."
"Are you saying that there are different levels of handsomeness?"
"Well... yes! Just like every pair of synonyms actually has subtle differences, handsome is the same. It can be divided into many types, and each type has many situations..." She gestured and spoke incoherently. "I'm not talking about good or bad, but different styles. Like calm and cool handsome, pretty boy handsome, rough and bold handsome. Some people are handsome in a warm way, while others are handsome in an extraordinary way..."
I grew impatient listening and felt a strong sense of defeat. I interrupted her, "So which category do I belong to?"
She stopped and lowered her head, not saying anything. After a long time, she cautiously looked at me and whispered, "Handsome in a way that 'suits my taste'."
A gentle summer breeze blew by, carrying away a few loosely attached leaves. I don't remember what else I did that day, and I don't remember what I said to her later.
I finally didn't feel the heat that day.