I saw a butterfly on my way home.

Cherry trees bent from the vast amount of petals crowning their branches. One stronger breeze could pluck those colors off. Yet, the winds were calm for this period of the year, as if the gods wanted to preserve the beauty of spring. On the other hand, people were hurrying as usual. Masses filled the streets, trains and restaurants. The faint scent of food mixed with the overwhelming scent of the flowers reminded me of childhood, specifically, of that moment before rain pours.

Everybody ignored me. We were heading in different directions. Even if our paths intersected, we’d be unaware of each other’s presence. We’d still be strangers. The world works like that because we’re all cramped in these narrow places called cities.

Tokyo’s more than that; it’s a titan supporting the weight of millions. It had always been a cold city, even colder that day.

Walking slowly, I hadn’t consciously noticed any of it. My body felt the surroundings, yet my mind barely registered anything. Goosebumps kissed my exposed arms and the soft breeze combed my hair when the pace halted. It’s weird, just as strangers are passing by without a second glance, how lonely one could become.

All I could focus on was the butterfly.

I saw it on the ground, next to my feet. It had blue wings framed by liquid black. Every time they fluttered, the blue shone brilliantly. For five minutes, it struggled to take flight. Then it stopped and it was over.

Just like that.

For a moment, I thought I had been dreaming. It was too fantastic. Dreams do that, sketch things in place that make no sense whatsoever in the real world, so it confused me for a second. Then, it started raining.

And if it had really been a dream, there’d be some guitar in the background and the skies would be much darker than now. And I’d feel like I’m falling with every step closer to the place we’re sharing. And it’d feel like the world is falling at the same speed with the petals crushed beneath my feet.

If it had really been a dream, you wouldn’t be there when I open the door.

“Ahhh you’re all wet!”

But you always are, even when I whine my reply.

“I took a free shower, it’s not that bad!”

You’re always there when I come home.

Ever since you appeared in this cold city, I have been wondering how much of it had it been real. We were supposed to be strangers too, but that didn’t turn out too well. Guess forcing two opposite people together never turns out well. Sometimes, it does; sometimes, it’s the perfect combination. Where one lacks, the other fills and we’re better when together than separate. Then again, we’re not magnets. We’re humans; we’re more like puzzles than magnets. Each puzzle piece needs to have something in common with the next piece in order to fit. And even if it fit, you step back and realize the picture is wrong and you never were meant to be there at all. Yet, I learned in my travels that there have been puzzle-like people that created their own images out of randomly placed pieces. In addition, there have been puzzle-like people that forced the pieces together in a combination that damaged the edges. If they had split, finding another piece to fit wi