The girl from next door, who happened to meet her the other day with a white puppy, went up the stairs, and I happened to meet her, so I got a couple of words. I learned that the little white dog was the stray dog she had picked up, and I showed myself that it was beautiful, but I didn't know her too well when I heard it, but I thought it was not my own, because I had to look at it, but it was not so good to make people happy that I could still find a good dog.
It's so vivid to see a girl be as happy as any, and it's sweet to hold her in one hand. But I'm still in a sour grape state, and it wouldn't be a good thing if the dog had a house where he loved it. Soon I forgot about it, and then yesterday I went home and met the girl, saw her sneaking around, and I felt something wrong, and I was holding something, and I pretended to be walking behind me, and then anyone knew she was coming outside the main entrance to the neighborhood and left her dog on the street and went home.
I felt weird at the time, but because I was afraid to ask, and then I watched the dog not want her to go, and the girl got angry and kicked it away. That's all I can do. I'm going to go ahead and tell you what's going on. The girl told me the truth when she came to me, and he told me two days later that the dog was in love, that it wasn't beautiful, and that's why I sent it to the place where it was. Seeing as she looked like she was scared. I don't feel like it's even beautiful.
Listen to me, the girl laughs, and then she says, "What's the time?" When I hear this, I feel like I'm out of date, just a dog, what kind to look at, and I'm gonna be laughed at? I can't believe it. I can't believe it. I can't think about it. I'm going home with a dog. It's really cute, white and pretty. Is it really that important?