But the older she got, the more she distanced herself. Although physically we were still the same distance apart, inside that distance was growing. At some point, technology ceased to be enough.

Perhaps I should have dropped everything and gone to her, but then... neither of us could break away from our familiar lives.

A little later, she moved to another country. Even after we broke up, we continued to communicate — in fact, even more often than in the last year of our relationship. There she met a girl and seems to have finally found happiness. It's hard to say for sure: the closer my death approached, the less often we talked, until we stopped talking altogether.

Perhaps I closed myself off from everyone, including her. Even though we were best friends, something prevented me from opening up. Maybe we just changed.

Since then, I haven't had a relationship that lasted longer than a couple of weeks. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I involuntarily compared each girl to her — and when I didn't find any similarities, I lost interest. And then I lost it altogether. I guess I was a real jerk.

So the last thing I wanted was to see her happy, sincerely congratulate her, and let her go. This time — forever.

It turned out that even such simple and honest desires were not meant to come true.

Quite a jumbled story, isn't it? Of course. There are things that are simply impossible to express in words. If I tried to convey these feelings, I would probably choose music. I would combine completely different compositions, and the result would be the most absurd but, in its own way, lively melody. That's probably how feelings sound — the mouth is silent, but the heart wants to scream.

Returning to the present moment, I knew that thinking about someone else while being with her was not right. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why I didn't want to remember the past. But it seemed that the time had come to accept it. It was time to move on. Each time, I would try a little harder — so that someday, this artificial relationship would become real.

— So, you're not even going to show me what she was like? — the girl asked.

— Huh? I... I don't remember, — I replied, frowning.

— Oh ho ho, has my irresistible image really pushed everything else out of your head?

She was definitely overacting — she made so many movements in a row that I didn't have time to remember them.

— Maybe so, — I whispered.

She froze, holding her hand to her lips, and blinked several times.

— I see, — she added after a short pause, — Very honest of you.

— Okay, where were we? Isn't it time for us to go down to those lights?

Descending the mountain, we passed the hotels and found ourselves in a square full of food carts and stalls. Last time, there were obviously so many people here that you only had to turn away for a moment and you would be lost in the crowd.

But now it was completely empty: no vendors, no passers-by.

The stalls remained the same. The light from the lamps painted the landscape in its soft glow, not blinding, but rather inviting you to come closer. I glanced at the girl, at her calm and carefree profile, and it seemed to me that she was not very interested in her surroundings.

— I'm sorry, maybe this is one of those places that people bring to life, — I scratched the back of my head awkwardly, smiling crookedly.

— Maybe. But I'm not complaining. After all, I'm not alone, am I? — She didn't look at me as she answered — her gaze was fixed on the stalls and what was inside them.

Apparently, she took a liking to one of the stalls — she walked forward lightly, and I followed. Even though this was a place from my memory, I felt like a dog obediently following its owner. Put a collar on me, and the resemblance would be complete.

For some reason, she looked me over curiously from head to toe before pointing to a yakisoba tent.

— What is that? It looks like earthworms. Is it even edible?

— What? Ha ha, no, no...

Before I could answer, she was already standing at the next stall, looking at the tayaki.

— Why does this fish look like bread? How can it swim?

There's no need to go into further detail: she rushed from counter to counter, searching for the strangest snacks she could find and describing them so absurdly, as if she were a child visiting a supermarket for the first time. I couldn't help but smile as I watched her eyes sparkle with childlike naivety. It was ridiculously cute. But even I began to understand what was going on.

— What are you trying to do? You know perfectly well what everything here is made of and how it's prepared.

— I know, — she said with a snort, — but it's fun to guess what's what just by looking at it. Don't you think so? — She puffed out her cheeks as if offended. — Besides, you have terrible taste buds. I'm sure everything will taste like plastic again.

Fair enough. It was hard to argue with her logic. I slapped my palm with my fist and looked around. I may not have been a gourmet, but I remembered some things clearly. Everything sweet was cloying. That taste was hard to confuse with anything else.

— How about that counter with the cloud? Want to try it? — I'm sure it's sweet, I nodded toward the counter with the watame.

She followed my gesture and giggled playfully:

— Oh ho ho, you call watame a cloud? How cute. You're playing along with me, aren't you? Only it sounds too childish coming from you.

— Wh... God, look who's talking! — I protested.

Ignoring my protests, she grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and pulled me toward the counter.

— Come on, come on, come on...

She turned to me and smiled, revealing her pearly white teeth. It was the most blatant and beautiful way to ignore me — and, strangely enough, I didn't mind. In fact, I was even happy. I guess I was just too naive. Wasn't I?

After that, she bought so much food that a comfortable walk was out of the question. With some disgust, I even took a plate of “rainworms” and “land breadfish.” If at first I felt like a dog obediently following its owner, now I resembled a man running after a rich lady and carrying all her purchases. What were they called? Hmm, nothing comes to mind. Apparently, my movements are too constrained right now to think clearly.

— Um, listen, maybe we should sit down somewhere? You can't really taste all this on the go.

— Yes, that's what I wanted, — she nodded. — Shall we go to the beach?

— The beach? Why don't we go to the park or the mountain? You can see the sea perfectly well from there, — I suggested.

— Seeing and touching are two different things, you know. And I... I love water.

I had no choice but to agree. However, we were similar in that respect — I loved water too. Every time I was by the sea or the ocean, I spent almost every evening on the shore. I heard that in Okinawa, locals come to the beach when they are bored — to dispel their melancholy and find like-minded people — other bored people. I, on the other hand, went there for the silence. Although, when I think about it, that sounds a little hypocritical — I always sat there with my headphones on, listening to music. So, I was just looking for a place to relax from the hustle and bustle? Yes, that sounds reasonable.

Passing by the stalls on my way to the shore, I noticed that she was wearing a mask. I wonder when she had time to stop by the souvenir shop? It was a popular character from some anime — with bright red hair sticking up like a hedgehog. And his face... how can I put it... slightly slow, maybe? Of course, after hundreds of episodes, they started drawing him much more expressively — more heroic, more confident — but for some reason, she chose the mask where he looks the most ridiculous.

I think most fans will understand who I'm talking about, but I was too exhausted to remember his name or the name of the anime.