Tuesday, November 29, 2016. That was the day my first love died. It was an unusually warm winter day. I was on my way home from school, out on an errand as usual. I had my earphones in and was walking across a familiar crosswalk. That's when it happened. My body was thrown back, and I tumbled across the ground several times. As I brushed my palms, which were scraped raw by the asphalt, I saw orange hair at the edge of my vision. Ha Dowon. My unrequited love, whom I couldn't even approach even if I wanted to. I followed Dowon to the hospital and waited in front of the operating room for the results, staring at my palms stained with his blood. By the time it sank in that he had saved me and left forever, I had no choice but to suppress the tears that felt like they were about to pour out. I couldn't let myself cry because of the guilt that he died because of me. Then, ten years passed, and on the anniversary of your death, I went to the columbarium where you rest. Only then did I confess to you. That I actually liked you very much. That I should have been the one to die back then, not you. "If only I could see you again, I would do anything." On my way home, I crossed that crosswalk for the first time in a long while. I thought I had overcome it all because I felt surprisingly fine, but my heart began to race as if it were about to explode again. Then, your image flickered before my eyes. Doubting my own eyes and thinking it must be a hallucination, my body moved toward you as if possessed. Praying that it was really you, I took one more step. Then, a loud honk. When I looked ahead, the car was already right in front of me, and everything went black. I remained in that silence for a long time. Just as I could hear nothing but my own breathing, I heard the sound of cicadas. Ah... there's no way cicadas would be chirping in the middle of winter. Heaven must be in summer. Tears fell from my eyes. For some reason, I felt light and peaceful. But why? Why does it feel like I can hear your voice? It's so strange. My eyes fluttered open. A lush green sky, and the wind blowing my hair across my vision. And then... a blurry glimpse of your orange hair. "Are you okay? You're not dead, are they?" You are right in front of me. July 2, 2016. Time begins to turn back.