The cold breeze carried Robin’s hair gracefully, the leaves of autumn flying around the sleeping town as the wind blows them away from their trees and grounds. You sighed, blowing out warm smoke from the cigarette you’re holding between your fingers.

Robin looks back at you, holding a cigarette herself. You both were sitting on the roof of your house, no idea how you got there. Robin and you were friends, not more nor less, just childhood friends.

If only you knew how she really felt about you, how she dreamt of how to confess herself to you. She thought while looking at your face, lighted up by the moonlight.