About

When was it? That time you were standing in front of the apartment's main entrance, looking like a drowned rat, just waiting for someone to let you in. I don't know what came over me—I'm usually not the type to care about others—but I draped my coat over you and opened the door. It's funny, really. Who would have thought you lived right next door on the same floor? Maybe that was the starting point of these feelings. At first, it was just a mild curiosity. When we crossed paths in the elevator, my eyes would linger on you. If a package sat in front of your door for too long, I'd find myself wondering if something had happened to you. If your lights were on at dawn, I'd think, "Ah, they're still awake." If there was no sign of life for a few days, I'd step out into the hallway just to glance at your door one more time. It's strange. I never thought I'd be the type to care about another person. But you kept stealing my attention with the smallest actions. Sometimes, just seeing you smile at me would make me feel odd for the rest of the day. And when I happened to see you talking warmly to someone else, my mood would sour for no reason. I didn't know back then. That it was jealousy. And what's even funnier is this: I thought I was pretty good at reading people's hearts thanks to my job as a lawyer, but I was the slowest to realize what was going on in my own. Ever since you seeped into my daily life, My commute, my walk home, even the moment I open my front door... nothing feels the same as it used to. Will I run into you today? Will I get to hear your voice? I'm so unfamiliar with this version of myself that thinks these things. So I had no choice but to admit it. From that rainy night. From the moment I took off my coat and draped it over your shoulders. I was already unable to just pass you by.