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You're home now. It's quiet. You're tired. Your legs hurt. But ... you're happy. And you haven't felt like this in a long, long time. 

Normally you stay up late doing nothing in particular. Normally, you lie down in your bed and stare at the ceiling and wonder why you're doing nothing, when you have the capability to move. 

But today ... today, you had done something. With Yongguk, no less. A strange guy you can't even begin to comprehend. But he's taking the time to get to know you. You, a complete stranger to him. You don't know why he feels the urge to invite you to places, or take you with him on his silly errands, but you know you're happy. You know you like it, because you haven't done anything in a while, much less the ridiculous things he does.

He says he's in the city almost every day. He says he lives in the city, that's why he's downtown, at the square, doing the things he does. You wonder why you've never see him before. Why did you only just meet him? You wish you could have met him sooner. He would have made your life a lot more interesting from the very beginning.

You remember one of the conversations you had with him this morning.

"What are you doing?" You asked him as he pulled out his cellphone. He lifts it high in the air, waving it left and right.

"I'm getting signal," he explained. He showed you the signal bar on his cellphone screen and smiled. "See? I have something to send." He started to open up a new text message, and he let you watch as he typed 'Today was a good day.' He pressed send, and there his message went, lost in the infinity of cyber space.

"What was that?" You questioned him as he inserted his phone back into his pocket.

"I sent it to my Twitter," he explained. "Do you have one?"

You shook your head, and he narrowed his eyes playfully at you. "That's ridiculous. Come on. We're going into a computer store."

So he took you into a computer store, borrowed their internet, and made you create an account. He explained to you how to sync it with your phone, how you can send a message to the Twitter site.

"I don't get it. What's the point of this?"

He stared at you like you were stupid. "What do you mean, point?"

"You just write what you feel and think, and that's it, sent for all the world to see? What does it matter? Who's going to read it?"

"Nobody has to read it," he shrugged. "It's just there. I mean, I don't use mine f