A letter to Lain

Today was my friend’s birthday.

Midday, I remembered a talk you and I had in February about your birthday.

I had an idea to draw for you; a short story about two boys by a deck at night on the first days in a new town.
I thought of that in September; several months before your birthday.

Your birthday has passed by now.
I didn’t copy the drawn story from my head to paper, and you didn’t remember that promise.