For every period of time I grow up, part of me inevitably dies.
This story is to the myself, who died at the age of 18. Looking back on it, these years are really beautiful, fascinating, and fragile.
Things are beautiful because they are fragile and will break eventually, just like bubbles.
This story is to the myself, who died at the age of 18. Looking back on it, these years are really beautiful, fascinating, and fragile.
Things are beautiful because they are fragile and will break eventually, just like bubbles.
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Link to play: itch.io
