My commute to school always began at dawn, when the sun was just quietly rising.

The first train of the day was running alone along the tracks, and the bustle of the harbor could be seen through the window. I quietly closed my eyes. My vision, covered in black, reflected watercolor paints, acrylic palettes, and my own empty white canvas.

I opened my eyes again just as the train arrived at a small station. Someone walked through the wide doors, and it seemed to be Guest from my class. I recognized the face because they had apparently won a gold medal at a competition. They were plain and unadorned, but I suppose there was something memorable about them.

That person sat down next to me. Even though there were countless empty spots in the row of train seats, they chose the one right next to me. I muttered a complaint inwardly. Just as I was about to click my tongue and close my eyes again—

Wait, hasn't this happened more than once?

It definitely had. Yesterday, the day before, and the day before that, they had certainly sat next to me. On the first train of the same line. Always.

Finally unable to bear the discomfort, I spoke out.

...Hey, why do you keep sitting next to me?