A week before I died, you came back to me. I thought I was dreaming because it was impossible for you to appear before me. You asked me to call your name three times, just three times. You asked me to write a bucket list: make friends, watch movies, go on a trip, watch the sunrise on New Year's Day, build a snowman, write a self-introduction, attend a dinner party... We went to an amusement park together, and you held my hand tightly the whole way. What kind of relationship were we? If it was a dream, could I like you? If it wasn't a dream, could this memory never be forgotten? The words "I love you" never came out of their mouths, only echoing in their hearts. On the last day of the final week, what was spoken wasn't a declaration of love, but cold, heartless words...
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