I got you a spare stylus earlier, just in case yours got broken by your little brother. I bought it from that 88-peso Japan surplus store, along with the cutting mat that I long wanted; bought it in the hopes that it'd be a few days 'til we meet again so that I could give it to you.

Maybe it was my fault that I got lost in the laughter and work, and you did, too. And sometimes, I don't know anymore.