You spend the next couple of hours gathering signatures from random people in the city. Little kids sign it, their parents sign it, and even some official looking adults in suits sign it. "What is this for?" They'd ask you. "A petition?" 

"It's a goal," Yongguk would reply to them. They'd look at him with questioning eyes but continue to sign their name anyway. 

Of course, some people refuse to hand out their signature. Quite a lot of people, actually. Girls who are on their phones shake their heads at you, and guys bobbing their head to the music they hear from their earphones wave you away. Overprotective parents usher their children aside as people too busy to spare a few seconds hurriedly rush by you, hoping to go unnoticed. The sun starts to set, casting hues and flares of rich orange and blues over the tops of the buildings, the colors cascading over the people in the streets. After enduring the aching of sore feet and the repeated rejections of strangers, you and Yongguk succeed in filling up the bottom half of the page. Satisfactorily writing the date and time on which the errand was completed, Yongguk gives you the book, and you smile.

"All in a day's work?" He asks you, grinning. He gives you a thumbs up sign, and you give him one back.

"We did good," you say, staring at the variety of signatures scribbled or carefully written on the lined paper. "I think I should get a copy. And we could frame it."

"That sounds nice," Yongguk says, walking beside you. "We could do that tomorrow. After lunch?"

"You have lunch with Himchan tomorrow, remember?" You remind him. 

He bonks himself on the head with his palm and mutters, "Aish, really. Doing that again. Maybe my memory is fading too." 

"Maybe," you say as you trace the texture of pen and pencil inscribed on the paper. "It's too late to go to the amusement park now, is it?"

"We can do it next week," he tells you. He squints up at the darkening sky, the purple in his hair gleaming brighter underneath the highlight of the coming moon. "Do you need me to take you home?"

You look around. "I'm alright. It's close by." You tap the cover of the book. "Should I take this home?"

"It's yours," he smiles. He reaches over to ruffle your hair tenderly, and you relish that moment, that feeling of having his hand on your head, of having those fingers play with your hair. He pulls back, his eyes growing distant, and murmurs, "I'll see you, then."

"Have fun with Himchan," you call as he starts to walk away. He gives you a little wave over his shoulder, and although you know he can't see you, you wave back. You keep your eyes on him until he disappears underneath the shadows, and only then do you turn and head home.

This had been a fun day. Tiring, but fun. You feel free, somewhat. Like you've done all the right things, even though the things you did were strange, and random, and definitely not premeditated. But it feels right. And you feel like you could go on forever, doing these things, things that seem like they don't matter, things that you'll remember as time turns and life continues. It's ju