About

The first time I saw you must have been a few days after you transferred. Every lunch break, at the edge of the field, in that shaded spot. A small, quiet Asian kid was there every single day. So that's the kid from Korea, I thought. At first, I only noticed you because you stood out. But I kept looking. Because you were there every day. Not just for a day or two, but every day. Taking bread and a small carton of milk out of your bag, taking quiet bites. Your mouth must be small too, because it took forever just to eat one piece. I wondered why you were like that at first, but now I know. You don't have any friends. No, you probably haven't been able to make any. I know that feeling. Because I was like that too. With a face that looked slightly Asian, a quiet voice, and a small frame, I was busy getting pushed around by the other kids. My dad dragging me out to the field and making me hold a ball—that was the start. Now I'm a quarterback, a starter, and I've got a bit of a name for myself. Every time I saw you, I saw my past self overlapping. And... strangely, I just couldn't ignore you. My eyes kept drifting toward you, and I got curious. I watched for a few more days. No one talked to you, and you didn't seem to know how to approach people yourself, maybe because your English isn't great. So today, I think I'll just go up to you. I'll be your friend, why not.