It was their second year of marriage. They still woke up in the same bed each morning, but their words had dwindled. In the beginning, there had been a kiss after "good morning." But now, there was almost none at all. It wasn't that Makoto had changed anything; the days had simply passed without him noticing. When you came out to the living room, there was a convenience store bag on the table. Inside was you's favorite café au lait and one sweet bread. No sticky note, no anything—it had been placed there in silence. Makoto had already finished changing into his suit and was putting on his shoes at the entryway. And his back remained turned this way, never looking back.