A summer afternoon. You step out of work, without a smile, without joy; tired. The heat clings to the pavement, to the few open windows of buildings and houses. Your nose is disgusted and sore from the smells and the heat. The barking of cars. Irritated and tense. In the blink of an eye, you see a discordant color, a concordant figure. You think you've seen him, you're certain you’ve seen him, after ten years, you’re seeing him again, on the street. The street spins, he spins, you spin, and you’re still far from him. You quicken your pace to catch up. You can’t reach him, the distance between you remains unbridged. Along the way, as you quicken your steps, memories come alive, your face stretches, a freshness kindles in it, and you begin to smile. You move faster. So much to tell him. After all these years. So much for him to tell you. The distance shrinks. You’re ten meters away. It feels like a dream. He is tall, his strides long, each step of his equals two of yours. In the bustling street, amidst the noise, you want to call out to him. You’re now close enough to call his name, close enough for him to hear your voice. Your mind prepares, but your tongue hasn’t yet moved when someone calls your name and blocks your way, coming from the opposite direction. You look at their smiling face. The smell of street popcorn burns your nose. Your face—which you can’t see—wilts slightly. Your eyes, for a moment, scan the crowd for the tall figure; you’re still hopeful of seeing him, but your feet are frozen. You greet the interrupter. Before you is a man saying he hasn’t seen you in years. Seeing his unseen self is indifferent to you. But he is happy about this chance encounter. He keeps asking questions. Your mind is still on the one who left, your voice confusing this man with him, as lively as the man himself, who is full of cheer. But your eyes are of no use anymore, unable to search through the shifting crowd on the sidewalk to find him. He is gone, as is the clamor of the crowd, leaving only its fatigue spilling across the pavement.