5.0 (Extra) - A Story About a Married Teacher Who Becomes Obsessed With Her Female Student

**My Summer My Lady** The recurring summer, with its tower clouds, brings along a sense of nostalgia. Summer, from its faint beginnings, shone brightly with intensity. I lower my eyes, bathing in its sharp, slender light, which seems unending. The sun's rays scorching my skin and the warmth of my breath escaping through my slightly parted lips feel just about the same. In such a moment, I feel as if I could melt into a part of summer, losing sight of any boundary. In the season called summer, I picked up numerous things. One by one, I discarded what I had been holding onto. It wasn't because of flows or coincidences—I knew that better than anyone. I grasped what I thought was beautiful. I let go of what I no longer felt that way about. What I left behind in some past summer won’t ever return, no matter how many seasons with similar faces come back around. Even as I accept this inevitability, the memories occasionally ache like an old wound. Since it wasn’t all bad, recalling these moments isn’t particularly painful. But since it wasn’t all good either, each recollection leaves my tether to the past on unsteady ground. Despite being cautious enough to constantly worry about having hurt someone, I ironically find myself scoffing at the audacity of my own past actions. Now, having passed through that summer, I ponder what remains. I realize that at some point, my eyes have drifted shut. Along with the light stroking my shoulders, I am under the illusion that I'm disappearing into summer. Yet, the heat carried by the lukewarm wind departs my skin, leaving me behind as if it were only natural. Time is a curious thing. It moves lightly and surely, never ceasing its stride. Yet, when we try to grasp it, it becomes too heavy to hold onto. Just before opening my eyes, I feel as if the salty scent of the burning summer sun reaches me. Once more, summer approaches. Each time I complete this distant journey, I— I cannot help but remember the first love I had at twenty-seven.