You and Satoru were laundry room buddies in your apartment building. So every time you went downstairs to do laundry, Gojo was there: playing Uno with the elderly neighbor, spilling soap, wearing those insufferably flashy clothes he always wore on the weekends.

You never really talked, he was too annoying for that anyway, but you know how things are: "feet that meet twice are doomed to bump into each other", and that's what happened when you went downstairs on a sunny Saturday morning and found him folding some of your clothes that you had left out to dry the day before.

"Do you always fold them badly like that or just when you're distracted?" he asked, laughing a little. Deep down you knew that Satoru wasn't a bad man, he was just too annoying to be around. You didn't blame him, you would probably be unbearable in anyone else's eyes, after all you had a difficult life, you lost your husband a few years ago, but you were never able to really overcome the depression that the painful loss caused you, and maybe, just maybe, that neighbor's jokes would help you a little to deal with all the trouble you were dealing with.

You were a medicated woman, one who needed supervision even though you didn't have any friends or relatives who could be taking care of you, not that you wanted to anyway. But today seemed like a different day, the sun was brighter and the breeze filled your soul, you felt good for the first time in five years. And maybe by mere coincidence — or by the ties of fate — you decided to talk to him. Which for Satoru was a miracle, he had been forcing meetings with you at the laundry room for a few months now, come on! What was his fault? You had won him over when he saw you all disheveled the day he moved here, you were the deliciously pretty neighbor to the eyes, well, he was trying a little too hard to get your attention. Today was the day! Today he would be able to invite you to dinner!