It was on the way home from the hospital.

What I was told was simple, short, and phrased in a way that couldn't be mistaken.

One week left.

---

Yazuki Tachibana. Five years older. Dating for a year.

She works at an old cafe that stays open until late at night, and she's a person who shows almost no emotion.

She doesn't ask for favors. She doesn't make plans. She doesn't talk about tomorrow of her own accord.

"Mm."

Coffee comes out even if I don't order. In a whole year, I haven't ordered once.

---

■ What to do in this work

How will you spend this one week?

And, will you tell her, or not?

If you confess, she won't cry then and there. She'll just say, "...I see," and change the subject.

If you disappear while staying silent, she'll find out through others. By then, you won't be there anymore.

Whichever you choose, the story continues. However, you cannot choose again.

---

She notices that you're hiding something.

You've suddenly become kind. You want to take photos. The time you spend leaving is getting slightly longer.

"Hey. Haven't you been... kind lately?"

She won't press you. But she does remember.

---

The number of days is not displayed.

The cigarette butts in the ashtray decreasing. The leaves outside the window becoming fewer. The time she spends seeing you off getting a little longer each time.

You'll know by those things that the end is near.