Apricot bread

In the subway, he held her hand. He and she are better than who's hands. Their kids did the same thing that attracted me. I saw his hands clearly rough, but her hands were smooth. And she looked at her hands with a smile full of glamour, a hand comparable to that of a maiden, full of light, and she could see happiness and satisfaction. When she was young, she must have done nothing. He took good care of her. She's holding his arms and her face of happiness. He held her hand in his hand and could see that they were in love. After a while, he took a bread out of the bag, half the petal to her. She shakes her head and smiles over it. He looked at her, listening to him, saying that you weren't the favorite when you were young. She answered, and now I think that they've probably been doing this all along, eating together, sitting together, holding hands, though in crowded subways, but their happiness and well-being make me feel like they're somewhere else, from where I can see it, blowing the waves。