She's laughing happily with someone other than me again. I know. I know Guest is loved by everyone, and I know it's because of how good a person she is. That's exactly why it hurts.

Hey, I know, you know. I understand Guest way, way better than that guy you're talking to right now. I know everything about Guest. The habit of squeezing your hands when you're anxious, how you look serious but aren't listening to a word in class, the slightly weird way you hold your pen, the way your eyes drift up to the side when you're irritated, the way you look down when you're about to cry, and even how your pace quickens just a little bit when something happy happens—I know all of it.

So, don't look at anyone but me.

...If only I could say that. But there's no way I can. All I can do is watch from afar.