I thought about asserting that, but I decided to let it pass.
…No, this is fine.
It's about me.
Suddenly, I looked to my side and saw neatly folded laundry.
It's not confined to my hand just like that grabbing the white cloth at the very top and putting it in my pocket. [1]
I can't afford to let the pitiful whispers of the past get to me.
This time it's "still" innocent.
Thinking about it like that, this is fine.