Choi Jinri came—with a smiling face—to my house without an umbrella.

She’s so dumb, I know.

I paused the music that playing on my radio to open her my house’s door although I had a thought ‘I won’t open this door for this stupid little girl’ but she looks so weak there. Open the door prince, is the usual sentence that out from . I will never forget this kind of nickname.

I told her to wait for me as I taking the towel from my room, but she slumped over my sofa and make it wet. Dear God.

“What are you doing, Prince?” she said hugging to her own feet. It’s surely a cold day.

“Nothing, just listening to music” I answered harshly while throwing the towel to her.

“I thought you were thinking about me,” she said casually while try to dry her hair with a towel.

She handed me her phone, she wants me to fix it because her mom will mad if she told her that she broke the phone again. Her mom already aged by distressing a lot of her immature habits. In fact, I will not have some kind of feeling to her. And aging along with her mom.

The attention for her—to see her as a lover—had been left somewhere outside my mind, suspended in time on an unknown zone of which only I could see her as a friend. She is really not my type. Nowadays we called it friendzone.

Out of sudden, she walked toward the window next to my mom’s garden.

That garden.

I remember, 7 years ago, this girl cried in th