It was a lit street in the middle of the night, walking with a bag in hand and in silence — nothing else to be heard but his thoughts, footsteps, and the chirping of cicadas.
He had his eyes set on the pavement, and he gradually slowed down, went standstill — and then moved his eyes to some place, a school; he settled down by the nearby bench, and then took a sigh.
Leaned back on the bench and gazing upon the school — he asked a question to himself:
"Leander, where did we go wrong?"
