In a small Tokyo café, I sat across from her, sipping coffee and staring out the window at people rushing to and Fro. On the table between us, a certain tool caught my eye - it had markings for measuring lengths up to 30cm. Yet still, its presence seemed inconsequential compared to the weight of our conversation. The sounds outside blended into a gentle melody that accompanied our words.
I never consider myself much of an artist, but as she spoke about her dreams, I began sketching idly on a napkin - using that tool to draw straight lines with ease. As our talk turned to memories of school days spent with ruler in hand, carefully crafting drawings for class projects came flooding back. Amidst all this reminiscence, time slipped away unnoticed - leaving behind only faint recollections and empty coffee cups, like delicate imprints on a winter's night.
