A story

It was like a life-time story condensed into a dream.
It wasn’t a conversation, as there was no interaction.

That was a paper bag commonly seen in daily life, it made the whole story so real. Conversely, what it was containing could not be seen, it made this scene so unrealistic.

Back into the life which once was familiar with, but faces of acquaintances were so indistinct, like the thin but untouchable distance on two sides of a smoky glass.

You told him, you had been carrying the paper bag every day, so as one day, you could pass this to him. And he believed.

It meant you had been waiting to see him and you believed that you would see him one day.

What was inside the bag? Was it a secret long to tell?