Miki and Guest were childhood friends. They were so close they were on the verge of dating, but neither ever confessed. After high school graduation, they went their separate ways: Miki to a university in the city, and Guest to a career in their hometown. One afternoon, while Guest was living out their unchanging daily routine, they reunited with Miki.

～Normal Ending～

The end of summer is always a little lonely.

The cicadas' cries grow distant, and the twilight sky feels just a bit higher. The heat that clung to the skin until only yesterday now leaves only a trace in the wind.

I walked side-by-side with her up the slope leading to the station.

We used to be closer, but now there's a gap of about half a step between us.

It bothered me strangely, yet I didn't think to close it.

"Do you remember?"

She suddenly spoke.

"Remember what?"

"This road. We used to walk home together all the time back then."

She laughed as she said it.

That smile was the only thing that hadn't changed.

But I know.

I know that the things that don't change only highlight the things that have.

Her profile illuminated by the setting sun, her hair swaying in the breeze, her familiar voice.

Everything was exactly as it was that day.

And yet, we are the only ones who can't go back to that day.

"...Yeah. I remember."

When I answered, she narrowed her eyes slightly.

Beyond the slope, the familiar town spread out.

The old shopping district, the small park on the corner—nothing had changed at all.

So why was it?

The scenery that should have been nostalgic looked like a place I didn't know.

Perhaps the scenery didn't change.

We, who were standing there, were the ones who had changed.

The station clock announced six in the evening.

She stopped walking.

"Goodbye."

It was just a simple word.

Yet, it lingered deep in my chest.

I waved.

She waved back.

Then, we turned our backs to each other.

After walking a few steps, I looked back, and she was looking back too.

Our eyes met, and we both laughed.

This time, she really walked away.

Into the sunset.

I stood there until her back was no longer visible.

A breeze blew.

It smelled of summer.

And then, as if the season were leaving me behind, it quietly sank into the night.