Placed in a empty room.

Or what would otherwise be an empty room, aside from the two chairs and a table.

And the people sitting in the chairs.

As one lifts her cup to taste the tea that had been cooling for some time, the other coughs.

After coughing, he takes a small pause, before continuing to finish lunch.

‘….So who’s thinking about you?’

A stream of noodles slip through the two separated sticks, sliding easily into his mouth.

A sigh. She knew it wasn’t easy to get a response, and lifted her cup once again.

‘No one.’

‘Excuse me?’

Another family of noodles fall prey to the pair of inseparable rods.

‘No one is thinking about me.’

A silent prayer for the deceased is interrupted by the death of others.

‘At best, only you would care for me.’

‘That’s a bit pessimistic, no?’

‘…’

‘You understand, don’t you.’

The quick glance away was all the evidence needed.

She did understand.

After spending countless years growing wrinkles and losing hair, she understood perfectly.

‘Maybe you do, doubtful though.’

‘I don’t even care for myself anymore.

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