C41 A Painting for Him
Maybe when I caught me from the swing, I messed up his hair, and a strand of hair came out of his hat, hanging down, as if he was telling a story.
I walked over and gently tucked the hair into his hat. I fiddled with his posture, head position, hand position, and even leg position, meticulously. I didn't have any distracting thoughts in my heart.
I don't know if I should love or hate him