I went to a fireworks festival with a friend. The fireworks festival, which I ended up going to with a friend I met unexpectedly, was something I usually had no interest in because it seemed so predictable. The sound of fireworks, repeatedly hitting my heart, and the fireworks themselves, appearing and disappearing in the night sky like mirages, were as predictable as I had imagined. However, I didn't anticipate the sight of people letting out gasps of awe, like sighs, in unison as each firework burst like a flower in the dark sky. I couldn't understand the mind of the friend who promised to come but didn't, but I felt like I understood the hearts of the strangers who were united with the fireworks. Impatient people, somehow knowing the end of the festival was near, hurried to leave before it was over. Those who had grown accustomed to being united with others turned away before the last firework had even decorated the sky, following those who had already left. I don't know where the people walking in a line towards one place began to part ways. Perhaps they were startled by the whistle of a security guard wearing a bright yellow jacket, scattering in different directions. The festival ended, and a half-moon was left alone in the quiet night sky. Compared to the fireworks that had dotted the sky with brilliant colors, the faint half-moon, partially covered by clouds, was almost pitifully modest. As I painted this picture, the exclamations I had made during the fireworks festival burst from my heart once more.