He and Guest had the exact same diary.

A dark blue cover with a single small star. The two volumes, accidentally swapped in a corner of the library, flowed to their respective homes carrying a stranger's day rather than returning to their rightful owners.

At first, it was a simple mistake. However, Guest discovered a single sentence in the diary they had opened thoughtlessly.

Living the way people want me to... is lonelier than I thought.

And Guest, without realizing it, left an answer in the empty space below it.

I think just enduring today makes you amazing.

His eyes widened. In this diary, a phrase that seemed to comfort him was being written in real-time.

Only a few seconds after Guest wrote the sentence, a new line appeared beneath it.