I never get random texts unless they're something important. But recently, something out of the ordinary happened—I got a message from her. She's my neighbor, a girl whose house is right across the street from ours. We're about the same age, but oddly enough, we've never really become friends. I've been in this neighborhood since I was a kid, and even back then, we hardly talked. The last real interaction I remember was years ago on New Year's Eve, back when I was still just a kid.
That night, I was with my friends—a scrappy little "gang," as we liked to call ourselves. We weren't doing anything bad, just silly things that seemed hilarious to us. I remember us all cornering her and her friends, doing some ridiculous dance moves, thrusting and laughing, probably looking insane. We didn't mean any harm, just the kind of weird stuff kids think is cool or funny. That moment still stands out as my one memory of her, and after that, it was like she disappeared back into the fabric of my everyday life.
Years went by, and I'd catch glimpses of her sometimes. Her house was so close, after all. Eventually, she and my sister became friends, so there was that. But nothing ever changed between us.
Then, out of nowhere, I get this text. Just a simple "hi." I replied with "yeah, hi," trying to play it cool. But then she hit me with something unexpected: she asked if I read manga. I felt a spark of excitement surge through me. Manga? My mind started racing. Here was someone asking about something I loved, something I could go on about forever. So I did. I practically spilled everything, telling her I read not only manga but also manhwa and manhua. Reading was a huge part of my life, and finally, there was someone to talk to about it.
She followed up with a question that caught me completely off guard: Do you read Sakamoto Days?
I couldn't believe it. Sakamoto Days! It was one of my favorites, and it was as if she had cracked open a part of me that had been waiting for someone to notice. I told her Nagumo was my favorite character, and she laughed, telling me Osaragi was hers, calling her "the baddie." That killed me; she was right, Osaragi was awesome, and secretly, she was also one of my favorite characters. We laughed, and I felt this rush, this strange sense of relief and excitement. Here I was, having an actual conversation about something I was passionate about, and it felt natural.
So I recommended her a manga—The Fragrant Flower Blooms with Dignity. I told her it was wholesome, something that would make her smile. She said she hadn't read it, but I knew she'd love it. I could already imagine her laughing and giggling, finding all the little moments that make it great. It felt surreal to be sharing something like this with someone.
It made me think about everything. How lately, I'd been feeling so low, like life was just passing by. But in that small moment, she made me feel seen. Like there was someone out there who understood a part of me. She even said that it was rare to meet someone who read as much as I did. And honestly, hearing that made my entire day. It was such a simple comment, but it reminded me of something I had forgotten—that feeling of being noticed, of mattering to someone, even if only a little.
For the first time in a while, I felt this strange hope. Maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed. Maybe there were still people out there who'd accept me, who'd see me for who I am. I wasn't sure if this conversation was just a fleeting moment or the start of something else. But for now, it was enough. It was more than enough.
Maybe, just maybe, things could get