Three-Part Dialogue: Rooftop, First Spring Storm, Loafers

When I opened the rooftop door, the first spring storm of the year blew through.

She is standing by the fence, looking out. She has the heels of her loafers crushed down and is tracing the edge with her toes.

“Sorry, did you wait long?”

My voice scatters in the wind. Whether she hears me or not, she doesn't turn around. Even though this should be the first time this has happened, many identical scenes are buried deep within my chest.

“The wind is strong, isn't it?”

The moment I say it, she turns around slowly. Her hair hides her face.
I know the expression hidden behind it.

“You’re so unfair.”

A stifled voice.

“If you aren't interested, you should just end it properly. You always do things halfway. Even today, you only came because I called you, right? You keep doing things that give me hope, over and over.”

Her breathing is ragged.

“Always, always—!”

She takes off her loafers and throws them over the fence. The black shadows are caught by the wind, drawing clumsy arcs as they fall.

“Go get them. If you do, I’ll forgive you for everything.”

Eyes that are testing me.

While still under her gaze, I put my foot on the fence. At that moment, a shock runs through my back.

I fell while looking up at her, who was still crying in the same posture she had when she pushed me.

The school building wall flows upward.
My body, which should be heavy, suddenly feels light at a certain point.

I spread my arms and catch the wind.
Just a few seconds.
For that time alone, I was truly flying.

But that, too, was only for an instant.
Immediately, an impact. And then, darkness.

＊

I open my eyes to the familiar sensation of a soft thud.

First, I move my limbs to confirm that nothing is hurt. When I take off the headset, I see the ceiling of my room. My feet feel slightly unsteady.

A virtual reality romance simulation.

I recall the warnings before starting: behaviors involving a strong sense of floating are not implemented, out of consideration for their impact on reality.

Even so, the moment I am pushed off the rooftop is different.

Only after piling up her distrust, showering her with affection, and choosing to act suggestively, do I reach those few seconds.
If I can make her say, “You’re so unfair,” then I have succeeded.

I put the headset back on.

“Would you like to start over from the beginning?”

Without hesitation, I press “Yes.”

Once again, for the sake of that one moment.

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