Unexpectedly waiting for a connecting train at Hsinchu Station A warm breeze blew in, drying the thin layer of sweat on my skin. The air carried the smell of bento boxes from the platform. Standing in the same spot where I used to wait, I looked up at the old station — unchanged for decades, worn with history. The girl who wore the Hsinchu Girls' High School uniform, inexplicably obsessed with the perfect attendance award — she felt like she was standing right beside me. ． Sh
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