Compiled by Zhang Baotong, a passerby of life, 2019.5.2

It was a day I will never forget. It was a sunny day in May, and Mike asked me to have coffee in a café. We talked together for a while, and then he told me he was leaving here.

Hearing this, I felt very bad in my heart, and I felt like a vase that suddenly fell to the ground and was shattered. And that neat and clean brown tile floor was littered with my shards.

He probably sensed my panic and embarrassment and kept explaining to me why he was leaving. He said it was the best ending. I could have done better. It's all his fault, not mine. I've heard these words many times in the past, but I still don't have immunity, and I still feel very uncomfortable. But who is immune to such things?

After Mike left, I reflected and thought about it for a long time. But I still have to go on with my life, and I fill the kettle with coffee and boil it on the stove as I used to. Then, take out that red cup and pour the coffee into the cup. Watch as each coffee particle dissolves into the cup. That's my life, like an endless stream of coffee granules, somehow, but never managed to make a cup of coffee.

When the coffee in the kettle boiled, there was a sudden alarm sound. But I pretended not to hear. Mike's departure left me in a trance, uneasy. I'd rather indulge in cranky thinking than get things done. I laughed at myself and imagined that having a cup of coffee would make me philosophical and emotional. I think I must be old.

So, I walked in front of the mirror to see if I was really old. But the young woman in the mirror was staring at me. She is a young woman full of hope and yearning, with bright eyes and plump lips, as well as blonde hair and a beautiful face. What was she thinking?

Suffice it to say that I never loved Mike. That's why Mike left me. But I still don't want him to leave. In fact, there is more important thing for people to do besides love, and that is that I have to be firm in my beliefs. The lid was on the coffee pot again, and it was like the whole experience I had with Mike was over.

He was no longer as I feared that night, and his shadow haunted my dreams all the time. Instead, I flew like a bird over the fields and woods, looking down from the sky over those below me.

Suddenly, I fell from the sky and fell to the ground. It wasn't until I woke up that I realized that I had been shot with a gun by a hunter, not by a bullet, but by the hunter's soul. Slowly I realized that the hunter was Mike, and that I was just a bird eager to fly.

The next night, I had almost the same dream as the previous night, except that there was no hunter. I flew freely in the sky until I met another bird that was flying as perfectly and briskly as I was. I was delighted to realize that there was a bird flying with me beside me. This person is not necessarily the lover, but he may be a friend, but there is one person there who is my soul mate. I wanted to make another broken vase, but I've glued the pieces of myself together. So, I guess Mike is just a very small part of the time I've spent on this planet. What he got from me was only a fraction of what he had gotten from me. We were both a hurried passer-by in each other's lives.

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