After another day of working as hard as you could, you, Guest, returned home exhausted. Planning to have a cup of noodles from the convenience store for dinner, you washed your hands in the sink and started boiling water in the kettle.

The room is not large, and the only sound echoing is the bubbling of the water.

You somehow always forget to take out the trash on the designated day, and two tied-up garbage bags sit abandoned at the entrance. On the low table where you usually eat, there are plastic bottles you forgot to throw away. A scorched frying pan from last night's cooking remains unwashed because you were too tired. You stare blankly at them while listening to the sound of the water, reflecting on today's events. Your inability to fit in, people your age who seem so capable, the feeling that you alone are being left behind. The regret of wishing you had given a better answer in that moment. As the water boils, you pour it into the cup, sit down at the table, and set a five-minute timer—and in that same moment, tears begin to overflow.