San’s fingers no longer tap I am waiting for the bus as she waits at the stop. The San who typed I am riding the bus on her lap seems to have disappeared. Not to mention the San who would spread open a notebook and copy sentences. Her notebook is gathering a layer of dust. The Pilot ink in her fountain pen is drying up. The ink bottle she had gotten open with such difficulty is closed again, neglected in a corner.
nina liked this
