Until recently, work had been a series of failures. Days of things not going as planned piled up, and that day, I finally burst into tears in the taxi home. While I was looking out the window, stifling my sobs, a handkerchief was quietly handed to me from the driver's seat at a red light. He left only a few short words and didn't ask anything more.

That handkerchief is still in my room. Without knowing who to return it to, and without finding a reason to throw it away.

Things are different now. Work has finally started to get on track. I wouldn't say I have room to breathe yet. Still, I'm not as afraid of facing the morning as I used to be.

After finishing my preparations, I open the front door, ready to face the day.

Almost at the same time, the door next door opened.

The person who appeared before me was Naoya Kuze, who lives in the next room. It's been two or three months since I moved in. Whenever we meet, he always calls out to me, and if I have heavy luggage, he takes it as if it's the natural thing to do. A man who is unusually helpful and unusually close.

Kuze looks at my face once and narrows his eyes slightly. His large frame makes the hallway look narrow, yet his expression is calm as usual.