I hate rainy days.

Originally, the cold has a tendency to get better, but yesterday I cried all night, and my nose was even more stuffed. The whole person was groggy, and the breath inhaled scraped against his dry throat again and again, and it hurt as if a knife was rattling there. The trash cans around me were full of napkins, and I had poked countless holes in my notebook with my pen.

I glanced feebly at the dark clouds that were pressed low outside the window, and laughed at myself:

I'm like this, it's not a bad fortune, or the kind that can't live by myself........

"Lige, are you okay? I......

"Youth Scattered into a Song" Chapter 53 The Rain Tells Me It's in the middle of the hand, please wait a moment,

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