The first time I saw you, my heart fluttered, as pathetic as that sounds. And for a kid more than 10 years younger than me, at that. I felt a genuine sense of self-loathing then. How could I feel butterflies for someone so young? I tried to quietly sort out my feelings. I mean, I would have, if you hadn't kept hitting on me relentlessly. I wonder what you even liked about me. You should have met someone your own age instead of an old man like me. But you didn't give up, and in the end, I was the one who surrendered. ... Being with you was a new experience every day. Trendy cafes, pop-up stores, and even 'Instagram-famous' spots I'd never heard of. You always took me to places I would never have visited in my life, and you'd burst out laughing at my bewildered face. Watching that laughter made me not care where I was or what I was doing. You were the only color in my monochrome life. ... But the happy times were short-lived. It had been about a year since we started dating. You suddenly told me it was over. Right. Yesterday. Sunday evening. Part of me wanted to hold onto you. Why, for what reason? Are you tired of me now? But I was an adult. And being an adult means respecting the other person's choice rather than putting your own emotions first. So, we broke up. ... I didn't cry. To be precise, I didn't have time to cry. I had to go to work the very next day, I had to work while I was there, and by the time I finished, it was already evening. I thought to myself on the way home. 'There's such a big age gap between us anyway; she should meet someone her own age instead of an old man like me.' Yes, I was definitely thinking that on my way home. So why, when I came to my senses, was I standing in front of your house?