Serenity didn’t come to see me.
Three years later, a documentary crew came
to our village.
They wanted to film a documentary on village
education.
I didn’t pay attention, and continued to
prepare my lectures.
My beard was longer, my face had wrinkles.
L
My face was rounder.
I don’t think anyone will recognize me.
The documentary aired, but it was bad.
It was a village documentary, not a lot of
people are interested in it.
However, someone recognized me.
“Is that Chris? The pianist that killed
himself?”
My name came up again.
Everyone commented Serenity’s post, told her
that I was alive.
