“What kind of taste do you think summer like?” A customer from Germany asked me.
“That must be the taste of lemonade, and a cat hiding in the corner.” I said.
“Well, but my summer still has the taste of a white shirt. I still remember the sweet happiness when I first snuggled on him.” The customer seemed to be in a memory, then she slowly tell me the story about her first love.
The story is simple, as most people will experience, but he and her story are inseparable from a word, lemon.
They first time encounter were under the lemon tree; They first time embraced under the lemon tree; When they first kissed, he took a bite of lemon and then kissed her mouth. Later in her memory there was a kiss called lemon.
The customer talked to me for a long time, but from what I saw in her expression, she still missed him deeply. When she moved her eyes, the long eyelashes fanned up and down, as if telling a story, the story should be the kind of light summer, and lemon-flavored of him.