A male friend

There was a senior I used to like while meeting with my friends. He used to personally contact me as if he liked me. I wanted to make sure of his feelings. One day, on the way home from a meeting, I asked him. 

"What kind of relationship do we have?"

"Friends."

He replied without hesitation. 

"I've had girls I've dated and broken up with reach out to me before to see if we could work things out again. I don't reach out to girls I've dated and broken up with, but I don't break up with friends."

"Well, if we do end up breaking up as friends, I hope it doesn't end ugly."

Walking on the dark path with him, 'This man doesn't like me and thinks of me as just a friend!' I walked quietly in some mysterious embarrassment. I waved at the bus stop with something unfinished in my mind and broke up with him.

After we broke up, he visited New York for the first time in 30 years and called me.

“Do you remember me?” It’s a familiar voice.

“Ah~ I remember.”

“How do you know my voice so quickly?” “

“Because the low yet sweet voice is attractive. haha. Nice to hear from you. where are you?"

I asked, and he answered.

“Can we meet and talk?”

“Can we talk more on the phone?”

I wanted to talk to him at length.

“Because something like that happened. “I’ll meet you and talk to you.”

I can't believe I can meet a man I once liked again. Because does he contact me while living without forgetting me?' I felt excited, as if a nostalgic figure from far away in the summer haze had suddenly come to my side and whispered to me.

Entering the cafe, he approached with a bland smile. He reached out his hand a little shrunken like an apple that began to drain. Behind him, the woman faltered and followed somewhat neatly.

"It's my wife."

Why didn't I think he'd come with his wife? A woman with a real impression greeted me rather politely. 'You've emphasized 'friend' to me in search of such a real woman.'

I excitedly shared the news about the friends we knew who had been visiting New York. But isn't his wife whispering in his ear as if she were interpreting what I said? I asked because it was strange.

"I couldn't hear well. That's why I couldn't talk on the phone."

I brought my body close to his face and told him to listen carefully in a high tone. He just nods his head and doesn't say anything. I naturally became quiet.

Before meeting, hope wandered through my head for a while, then slowly slipped out, and the time with him stopped as if the pendulum had stopped. As if he had been pressed by the atmosphere where my conversation had ended, he pointed his head at the clock and woke up with a bland look on his face. The sunset, which burned pink like a meeting and a breakup, faded into darkness. It was bittersweet.