It was the summer a year ago. Since he heard that piano piece, he would occasionally think of that girl.
As usual, Caleb Lockwood was driving home. It was past six, and the sun had not yet set. Even the afterglow carried an annoying heat as it fell on people's bodies.
As he drove past the square, he inadvertently saw the young girl who played the piano before. She was holding a donation box and talking to a middle-aged man.
The young girl had a ponytail, and her delicate face was flushed by the sun, looking very earnest.
Caleb Lockwood recognized her at a glance.
For some reason, something within him stirred, and he found a place to park his car. Just after getting out, he saw the middle-aged man walking over.
Caleb Lockwood strode forward, blocked the man's path, and moved his lips to ask, "Excuse me, what was that donation about just now?"
