I thought that with age, everything would become much easier. With experience, understanding people should become easier. But as practice has shown, the older you get, the more difficult life becomes.

A few years before my death, I truly believed that I understood people well. But one event put everything in its place. I was like a matchbox from which matches were taken out one by one until there was nothing left inside. The strike pad wore out, and instead of looking for new matches, I put the box aside. In a sense, I threw myself away, right? Even if I had a choice, I would probably have done the same.

All those warm feelings, such as love, care, and concern, had a negative side — intrusiveness. And the closer a person became, the more distinct it felt. The closer the relationship, the less room there was for yourself — because the concept of “we” supplanted “I.”

It was one of those things that everyone had to either put up with and deal with in their own way, or give up altogether.

I lay on the bed, covering my forehead with my hand, and stared blankly at the ceiling. The only sound in the apartment was the relentless ticking of the clock. No matter how hard I tried to stop it, it continued relentlessly, announcing every step that had been taken.

However, this was nothing new. From the outside, it might even seem that I had once again plunged into the ocean of everyday routine.

To tell the truth, I was slowly recovering from... Hmm? From what? From rejection? But I didn't get it. Then what was it? I don't know. I wasn't entirely sure what had happened. The girl disappeared before I could finish speaking.

Most likely, she really did reject me. Not directly, of course.

The fantasies I indulged in were based on nothing. She was just being nice to me, nothing more. I knew that. But still. But still... The Rubicon had been crossed.

It was wrong to make things up for others, especially when it hadn't worked before. Even if I thought I knew a person, I couldn't understand them. Relationships always remained complicated. No matter how much you learn from your mistakes, it's impossible to prevent new ones.

In retrospect, perhaps this whole journey is what we call experience. It's a little funny that I never managed to use it in my lifetime, and after death, I was too slow to figure out the situation in time. It's important to always look at things soberly. I always tried to follow this principle, but it turned out to be extremely difficult to maintain clarity of mind when the mind is consumed by groundless hopes. Because feelings, like a raging ocean, sooner or later find a breach in the dam of reason. No, it turned out to be impossible.

Returning to that moment...

.

Out of habit, I reached down to take off my shoes, but when I looked down, I saw that I was barefoot again. Yes, of course. I checked my feet—they were clean. Always clean, even after long walks. Practical.

We walked through the hallway and soon found ourselves in the kitchen. Small and cozy — just as I remembered it. Everything was in its place: the table, a few chairs, even a small scratch on the back of the one that was used most often. I guess that's what they call a favorite, isn't it? I ran my hand over it, as if brushing away invisible dust.

In reality, someone else had probably been living here for a long time. Maybe they had remodeled the kitchen, changed the furniture, thrown away things that had once been part of my life. Or maybe the landlord had concealed the fact of death in this apartment by throwing away the unnecessary things in advance. Yes, that's right. That old man had always been a scoundrel.

I smiled. He always tried to take more from me, justifying it by saying that I was still young, single, without children or pets. But now, all his grand plans had been shattered in the blink of an eye.

The girl looked at me questioningly, and I shook my head — nothing.

— I have to admit, this place is definitely significant, but not so much that I want to come back here.

— Really? But you spent all your free time here. Wasn't it because you liked it here?

— Of course not. It's just...

Despite the fact that, judging by her tone, she knew the answer and was just teasing me, I couldn't argue with her. Indeed, if you looked inside my head, the walls of this apartment blocked out all other views. But it wasn't because I liked it here, it was because... Hmm? Because of what? I had no choice? I wouldn't say so. No one was stopping me from going for a walk in the park, for example. Then why?

— It doesn't matter.

— I see.

Obviously, we didn't look in the bathroom before moving on. There wasn't a single detail there that could catch the eye. Everything was so boring, so ordinary, that even if you erased the little things from your memory, nothing would change.

We walked through the living room, which flowed smoothly from the kitchen. The only thing that separated one from the other was an old sofa standing in front of the TV, as if marking the territory where one could relax.

It was amazing to watch the lights come on wherever the girl walked. It seemed as if the sparkles flying off her footsteps penetrated the walls, illuminating the rooms with their glow. But in reality, it was just the light bulbs turning on.

And then, while I was admiring the ordinary lighting, it happened. Time made it clear that it does not stand still while I waste it on reflection. My hand, which a moment ago had been hidden in my pocket, hung in the air. But the girl had already stepped over the threshold of my room.

Gritting my teeth and awkwardly averting my gaze, I followed her. Although there were no smells here, visually everything was as I remembered it. The same scribbled sheets of paper, scattered chaotically across the table and bed, as if a hurricane had swept through the room, leaving the disorder of my thoughts in physical form. On the floor were crumpled scraps of ideas that had never found their place. The clothes hanging on the back of the chair resembled my own shadow — crumpled and unkempt. And the bed... it was as if I had been sitting on it just a few minutes ago, sorting through papers.

I could feel every nerve tensing. My joints creaked like a rusty swing as I turned to the girl. I was already preparing to justify myself — but she didn't seem to notice the chaos. With a light movement, she sat down on the bed, sorting through the sheets of paper.

She patted the sheet next to her, as if inviting me to sit down, and without looking up from the papers, asked: “What's it about? Your story.”

I cautiously sat down next to her. I took a few sheets from her hands and quickly scanned the lines.

“What's the story about, huh?” I muttered to myself.

To be honest, I couldn't remember all the details. Only fragments floated into my head — pieces of the world, fragments of the road the hero was walking on.

An ordinary guy who found himself in another world and thirsted for adventure. A typical beginning, like in hundreds of other animations and books.

No strength to overcome the fence, no glory for exterminating slugs. Mediocre magic, and even that at the level of a village shaman. And without money and hope, it was impossible to learn anything more.

He thought more and more often: maybe he should have stayed in his parents' house, growing vegetables and not chasing after illusions. But his heart called him beyond the horizon, and he continued — not for glory, but to prove to himself that he could do it. With each passing day, with each drop of sweat and blood, he believed that he would leave something behind.

But the universe has never been particularly attentive to the desires of ordinary people.

His story ended in solitude — in old age, in silence. Without achievements, without feats. Neither a hero, nor a husband, nor a father.

“So what is my story about?”

Scratching my chin, I chuckled. Years of writing — and everything condensed into a minute. No bright events, no clear idea, no message. An ordinary life. The kind that no one talks about. The kind that no one notices.

— Well? — she asked, tilting her head to one side as she took the sheets from my hands.

— Probably... nothing.

— Nothing? Hmph. I don't think so... — I think your character is more alive than you are.

I blinked timidly, shifting my gaze to the girl. My head had been boiling with thoughts just a moment ago, but now my mind was frozen. I couldn't quite put a name to the feeling that had taken hold of me, but I was unable to form coherent thoughts.

— That... that's why?

— His dreams may not have come true... but he lived by them until the very end.

— Huh? And? What's the point?

— That's the point, — the girl nodded. — He may not have achieved anything he wanted, but he stubbornly pursued it. — He lived with hope. And you know... I think he was much happier than someone who lost it.

Really?

Why did she think that? No, no, I don't deny that there was deep meaning in her words, but still. Could the hero of an unknown, unfinished story be considered alive? Neither his aspirations nor his ideals were ever fully conveyed on paper. His chest was immobile, just like mine. He and I left the same mark — none. Then why was blindly following a dream and getting nothing better than resigning oneself and accepting everything as it is? I could only guess.

— Yes, you're right. No one wants to be left with nothing... but still. How can I explain it...

She seemed to be thinking hard about something, holding her index finger to her temple. And I just sat there in complete confusion, looking back at her.

— Don't you think that a person who wants something looks more alive? Even if his plans seem absurd to others, for him, it's the meaning of life. And you have to be strong enough to keep following your dream when nothing works out. Don't you think so?

"Whatever you do and wherever you find yourself, the light will remain with you. Everything bright that seems dead inside you will come back to life if you truly want it to. The heart is simply incapable of giving up hope, because the heart cannot lie. Turning the page in the book of life and looking up, you will suddenly meet the smile of a complete stranger, and the search will begin anew."

It was a quote from some book — I think it was a French author, but to be honest, I didn't remember the name. Just looking into the girl's eyes, I felt overwhelmed with emotion. Was it hope? Who knows. I didn't understand my own feelings well enough to answer that question. However, for some unknown reason, everything inside me seemed to come alive.

— Would you like to walk a little more? — I suggested, raising my hand.

She looked really shocked now. But the crooked smile that followed made it clear that she didn't mind. The girl raised her hand and was about to snap her fingers, but I stopped her before she could.

— No, don't, — I gently touched her hand, — Let's just walk. Follow my, um... thoughts, I guess?

She looked at me intently, tilting her head to one side, then nodded briefly and got up from the bed.

— Shall we go, then?

— Uh-huh, — I replied, getting up after her.

Leaving the apartment and locking the door behind me, I felt as if I were closing an old box filled with some kind of childhood treasures. It's hard to say what place they occupied in my heart now, but I didn't have the resolve to get rid of them. I let out a kind of sigh and turned the key. Locked.

The girl was waiting for me downstairs, and when I turned away from the door, my eyes were immediately captivated. She was standing in a dark blue yukata with a white belt. Yes, I understand that this description doesn't convey anything in general, but... Everything around me blurred, flowing into an endless river of shadows, and in the middle of it was a lantern shining brighter than the sun itself. She waved at me, and, suppressing my stupor, I ran to her.

— How? Wh... You... I... Ah... You look dazzling...

— Is that so? Thank you, — she winked playfully at me, — And you look the same as always.

— Um, yes. I guess so. Wait, I...

— Oh, don't be so dramatic. I was just kidding. Actually, I've already gotten used to your simple outfit.

I raised an eyebrow, looking at her with feigned reproach.

— Is that your subtle way of saying I have no taste? I hasten to point out, young lady, that my style has always been distinguished by its elegance.

— Oh, young lady? — How ignorant, she pretended to be offended, putting her hand to her chest, I don't want to hear anything about fashion from someone who walks around the street in a bathrobe.

— Hey! That's... not true! — I hastened to justify myself, although, in fact, I did go to the supermarket in my bathrobe. But only once. Or... maybe a few times.

After a moment, she burst out laughing, and I laughed with her. Sometimes, in such insignificant verbal exchanges, I forgot that we were from different worlds. I wonder how many people from my world she had met before me? Or was one soul, mine, enough for her? During my time with her, I didn't meet anyone else, so... Could it be that I was the one who had such an impact on her? I know, I know, it was very arrogant of me, but still.

— Actually, this outfit, yukata, I think? It also looks a bit like a bathrobe, — she remarked.

— Ha! So we have a fashionista here.

With a skeptical expression on her face, she clicked her tongue and waved her index finger in front of my nose. “But, but, but, dazzling fashionista, please note.”

— Yes, yes, as you say. Let's go.

I must admit, she had an amazing ability to turn any awkward moment into a joke. But as long as she was happy, I seemed ready for anything.

Without hurrying, we moved on. Through the unremarkable streets of the urban area, smoothly transitioning into a pine grove located on a mountain. I don't know what to call this state, but I was delighted to watch my thoughts magically materialize right before my eyes. It would be interesting to know how it worked. Did she see the world through my eyes, or was it something else?

We slowly descended along the well-trodden path, between the thin tree trunks scattered chaotically. The quiet whisper of waves coming from behind the cliff reached my ears. And then, when the tree crowns parted, my eyes were greeted by a view of the sea. The water was illuminated by the night sky, and it seemed that one could gaze at the stars without raising one's head.

Of course, we had been to many places: from lakes to oceans, from rocky peaks to sandy hollows, but this was the place I could truly call special. Not only because of the people I was with, but simply because.

Strange, isn't it? She saw right through me, but she couldn't find this place. Probably, like me, she didn't want to turn the page. It was a part that I had to discover on my own. That's what I think. The awkward smile that appeared on the girl's face made me realize that I wasn't far from the truth.

Where to start... I've always been a little sentimental, even though I hid it behind a facade of indifference. So, probably quite a long time ago, I had a girlfriend. I'm sure for most people this confession sounds normal. But you have to admit, it's a little strange to hear this from someone who seemed detached. The truth is, that's exactly what I became after it all ended.

We met in college and were almost inseparable — from the moment we woke up until we went to sleep. It would not be an exaggeration to say that we grew up together, especially considering that when we met, she was still in high school. We lived in different cities, but the digital age allowed us to compensate for the lack of live communication in some way. Of course, we often saw each other in person — and not only in this place.