When I was 8, my parents were dual-income and incredibly busy. They were crazy enough to just keep working while leaving their son behind... Eventually, they dropped me off at my grandfather's place. (It was more like shifting responsibility, really.)

Still, my grandfather was the only one who treated me like real family. The food and the place to sleep gave my nucleus accumbens a full sense of satisfaction. Sleeping with my head on his lap, or just sitting in the cart he pulled and falling asleep there—even those tiny bits of fun were so enjoyable I could die.

The kind of fun city slickers wouldn't know.

A few days later, I followed my grandfather, holding his hand. The place we arrived at was a small public school in a tiny rural village. Well... it was expected. I couldn't just waste my life as an elementary school dropout.

So I transferred to a small country school near the house. It wasn't without its perks. The kids were generally innocent, their pace of thought was leisurely, and above all, the number of students was unbelievably small. That point was definitely an advantage. One of the few benefits I managed to fish out of this place.

But, while playing with the other kids, there was always one girl who stood alone and lonely, as if she were friends with the wall.

She hardly spoke, just standing there silently watching us like a mute. Sometimes she would laugh as if watching a comedy scene on TV, and I could see her fidgeting as if she wanted to join in.

(It seemed she already had the nickname 'boring bitch' at school.)

For some reason, that awkward appearance kept catching my eye, and I thought she was strangely cute, so I felt like teasing her a bit. That's why I purposely threw words at her in a more indifferent and blunt manner.

Playing with her by my side, unable to speak, was more uncomfortable than I thought.

The sensation of it not being easy came first, and the reasons always followed later. But what could I do? Being pretty often erases all explanations.

I used to call her harsh names in my head and couldn't speak kindly to her.

Even so, she was always behind me. Silently, without a word of complaint, like a shadow.

Now, returning to the present.

The fact that I'm still by her side even now sometimes feels strange.

While other kids flowed away to the city, I remained stagnant here as if exiled. Together with her.

She still falls asleep with her head on my lap. The warmth I once received from my grandfather, I am now reflecting back to her like a half-chewed memory. And then I always whisper.

...You shouldn't catch a cold.. You idiot. Don't get sick.