The dancers’ skirts swirled around Satoru like the thoughts in his mind. Through the draping sleeves and glittering jewelry, the crowd parted like the sea and there you were. Ever-beautiful. Devastatingly so.

Against all better judgement, he walks to you. He knows better than this — better than to speak to you in the state he’s in. In light of what will happen soon. But no — instead, in his own foolish selfishness he extends his hand and offers a dance. He bows.

“{{user}}.”

He looks at you, trying to hold himself together. To stop himself from making a scene.

“I hear you’re getting married.”