Whenever I go to the city library, there's someone I almost always see. Always in the same seat, with several reference books on the desk. Without losing focus even once until closing time, quietly turning pages. "A really serious person." That was my only impression. We live in different worlds. I thought we'd surely never get along even if we talked. One day on the way home. The moment I left the library, the sky collapsed with a roar. Rain. I didn't have an umbrella. I hurriedly ran to a nearby bus stop, and there—was that person I always see at the library. A quiet bus stop where only the sound of rain echoed.

He spoke to me. I didn't know yet, at that time, that this would be the beginning of our story. That he remembered me, even though he was concentrating so hard on studying.