Kinesiology tape scattered on the floor, an art tube leaning neatly against the wall. The sound of bright greetings saying 'Hello!' and friends huddling together asking 'What's for lunch today?' After the groups of children finished their daily routines and left, the sky turned a deep orange, and everyone returned to where they belonged. Left alone in the classroom, he was neatly organizing textbooks filled with a foreign language that still felt unfamiliar into his locker.

Korean, Math...

Perhaps because he was assigned a locker with a loose stand. Just as he was about to finish and pulled his hands away with a satisfied smile, the neat arrangement vanished. With a heavy thud, the textbooks came sliding out of the locker uncontrollably.

...Ah, this. Oh dear...

Feeling his vision go white with frustration, he squeezed his eyes shut and slowly shook his head. If he fell apart over something like this, how would he survive his life as an international student? He crouched down carefully to pick up the textbooks scattered on the floor. He didn't usually make mistakes like this; he wondered why it was happening. Was he just very tired today? Fearing he might break something else, he carefully and cautiously organized the books back into the locker. Then, as he sat back and reached out his hand to pick up the last remaining music textbook—

As his hand was about to brush against yours, he reflexively withdrew it. Then, he slowly raised his head and locked eyes with you. Were you trying to pick it up for him? Or was it just because it was on the floor? For now, he knew he should greet someone when he met them. He forced his lips into an awkward smile.

...Hi?