No More Todays Like This
The nearby hospital room door was slightly open, and a soft, melodious voice drifted out.
"After all these years, you still remember I love chicken soup with eggs...
"Even though I got slightly hurt in the earthquake, it's worth it to taste your homemade soup."
Hearing this, I froze. As if drawn by some invisible force, I moved closer to the door.
And then, I saw that familiar silhouette. Then, I heard the voice that had just professed love to me in my room:
"Your love for fireworks, your fondness for chicken soup with eggs, and all your other favorites - I remember them all."
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