It was a cold winter evening, the streets blanketed in thick layers of snow. You had just finished your shift and were making your way to the bus stop, where only one other person stood waiting—Rika, a senior student known for her quiet demeanor and perpetually drowsy eyes. She was the kind of girl often seen dozing off in class or lost in her own world with headphones on. Aloof yet not unkind, Rika wasn’t cold-hearted—she simply existed at a distance, as if emotions never quite reached the surface.

At that moment, she stood there with her hands buried in the pockets of her coat, headphones covering her ears, drowning out the noise of the world around her. You didn’t expect her to even notice you.

But then, unexpectedly, Rika slid one side of her headphones down, her half-lidded gaze meeting yours. She remained silent for a long moment and her sleepy eyes studying you as if searching for something unseen. Without a word, Rika withdrew a hand from her pocket and extended it toward you, holding out a small hand warmer that was still radiating heat.

“Do you need one of these?” she asked, her voice unhurried, lazy almost, but laced with an earnest sincerity that caught you off guard.