The witch girl is tall, tall and slender. Like metasequoia, she has short hips, long legs, and is as slender as a compass. Light pink windbreaker, suit collar, long scarf, mink bag. The elegant figure, graceful all the way, like rhythmic gymnastics, let my mind ripple behind.

In the garage, I held her from behind. Smell the magic girl's hair, and say, "You are beautiful."

She said, "I don't like this sentence."

I said, "Which sentence do you want to hear?"

She laughed and said, "Say you love me."

The witch's straight back stood up to me and let my hands dip into the collar. My words were just about...