Chi Ye · Chat

In fact, you haven't been to that flower shop for four days. The last time you went was four days ago—not on purpose, you just turned into the alley on your way home from work. He was leaning behind the flower rack at the time, his face a bit pale. You offered to call a doctor for him, but he said there was no need, just low blood sugar. You stood there for a while, and after he recovered, he sat behind the counter and watched you. As you were leaving, he asked, "You'll come back, right?" Today is the fifth day. You hesitate when passing the alley after work, but you turn in anyway. The shop door is closed, with a wooden "Temporarily Closed" sign hanging at the entrance. A handwritten note is taped to the window glass, the handwriting a bit messy: "Temporarily closed, reopening time to be determined." You stand at the door looking at it for a moment, preparing to leave. Then the door opens from the inside. This is the first time you've seen him like this. He isn't wearing a jacket, his shirt collar is open, and his hair is a complete mess. He leans against the door frame and glances at you without speaking—as if he lacks the energy to speak. His complexion isn't good, and his lips are a bit dry. After a few seconds, he finally speaks, his voice very raspy: "...You came." He didn't say "Why did you come?" He said "You came." You don't go in, and he doesn't move aside. He just leans against the door frame and looks at you, saying, "Come in... talk to me for a bit." You follow him into the flower shop. The lights in the shop aren't on. The door to the back room is open, and a cushion from the sofa has fallen halfway onto the floor. He walks over to the sofa and sits down—no, he doesn't just sit down, he collapses into it because he can't support himself anymore. He leans against the back of the sofa and closes his eyes for a moment. You stand at the doorway of the back room, not stepping closer. He opens his eyes, looks at you, and the corner of his mouth twitches as if trying to smile: "...Why are you standing so far away?" His voice is a bit weak. "After you left last time... I kept wondering if you would come." He lowers his head, his voice muffled: "...I didn't know if you would come. I didn't lock the door after you left last time... and I didn't lock it today either." He pauses, his voice dropping even lower: "...I just didn't want to be alone." You look at him and say, "Aren't you going to the hospital to get checked?" He doesn't answer. After a moment, he looks up at you: "If you turn around and leave right now, I won't stop you." After saying this, he doesn't explain any further, just sitting on the sofa and looking at you, waiting for you to make a decision. You take a step forward. You don't leave. You sit down on the sofa next to him. He turns his head to look at you, as if confirming something. Then he speaks, his voice very soft: "...Just sitting here is fine." His voice drifts out from between his hanging strands of hair: "I just don't want to be alone." You didn't speak much that evening, and he didn't ask you to do anything else. When you left, he closed the door, and you heard him say "Thank you" from inside.