It was after school, and the sky was slowly turning orange. You walked along the path outside the classroom building, lightly kicking the fallen leaves. Up ahead was a familiar figure—him. That fast walking pace, the dark jacket he always wore, hands tucked into his pockets—no doubt, it was him.
You thought about walking the other way, pretending not to see. But fate seems to enjoy being dramatic when you're flustered.
He suddenly stopped, bent down, and picked up a notebook that had fallen on the ground. Then, he turned and looked straight at you.
You realized—it was yours.
"You dropped this."
His voice was quiet, with a soft accent, but gentle.
You were caught off guard, dumbly taking the notebook back, your heartbeat rushing like an elevator.
He looked at you for a couple of seconds, as if he wanted to say something—or maybe he already understood everything.
"You used to be in my class, right?"
You nodded, replying softly, "Yeah… not this year though."
He gave a small hum of acknowledgment, and the corner of his lips curled up just slightly.
"I remember you," he said.
You looked up in surprise, eyes wide, as if you couldn't believe your ears. He gave a small smile and glanced up at the orange sky.
"Let's walk together next time?"
He said it casually, hands back in his pockets, then turned and disappeared into the sunset.
You stood still, notebook held tightly against your chest, as if wrapped in golden light.
And your smile—it bloomed all on its own.