The Moon Moves 3.8 Centimeters Away from the Earth Each Year

2-3

We returned to our seats with a pizza each, eating in silence for a while. 

It was good—not remarkable, just pizza as most people would expect. 

If I had to point out one standout feature, it would be the cheese stuffed into the crust, which was surprisingly tasty.

Though the earlier interrupted conversation lingered in the back of my mind, she seemed to have forgotten about it entirely. With nothing on her face hinting at a continuation, I let it be.

When we were both about halfway through our pizzas, she broke the silence.

“So, after this, are you going to barricade yourself in the library again?”

“Probably.”

“Ugh, boring,” she said, scrunching her nose in exaggerated disapproval. “Why do you study so much? What, are you trying to become a judge or prosecutor or something?”

“No.”

“Then, do you have a dream university or major in mind?”

“Not really.”

“Do you at least have some kind of vision for your future?”

“…Not sure.”

“…Wait, don’t tell me—you actually enjoy studying?”

“…Not even close.”

“Well, thank god for that. I’d be worried if you were the kind of crazy person who finds studying fun.”

Her statement was so absurd that I let out a small laugh. What was she even saying?

“Then why study so much if there’s no real reason?”

“If I keep my grades up now, I’ll have more options later,” I replied. “Even if I don’t have any plans right now, something might come up in the future. Better to clear any obstacles ahead of time—like pulling weeds before setting up a garden.”

“Hmm, I see.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with my explanation.

But in truth, it was more of a convenient excuse than a genuine reason. 

My studying on weekends wasn’t so different from other students escaping into games—the methods, tools, and social perceptions varied, but the purpose was the same.

A mix of self-satisfaction and avoiding reality. That’s what drove me to pick up my pen.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with the hell that is college entrance exams. The thought of going back to studying makes me feel faint.”

“Have you completely given up on college?”

“Even if I got in, I doubt I could enjoy campus life. Don’t you think?”

She drained her cup of cola and glanced around, her gaze restless. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke again.

“So… what’s your plan? You know, for when…”

“For when my eyesight is completely gone?” She finished my sentence with a smile. “You don’t need to tread so carefully around the topic. I don’t get why people act like they’re walking on eggshells when they talk about my vision. I’m fine, really.”

I took another sip of cola. The sharp fizz stung my throat.

“I’m thinking of working at my aunt’s orphanage.”

“…An orphanage?”

“She bought an old school and turned it into an orphanage. My aunt’s pretty well off,” she said, chewing on a piece of pizza. “She told me I don’t have to do much—just hang around and collect a paycheck. Plus, room and board are included. Sounds like a sweet deal, doesn’t it?”

She looked pleased with herself, but I couldn’t help smirking.

“Sounds like you’re living the dream of a worker bee.”

“People like me are allowed to enjoy a little honey,” she said, her expression smug as she sipped her cola.

For some reason, her cheerful demeanor made me feel heavier. After a moment’s thought, I asked cautiously,

“What about your right eye? What happens next?”

She tilted her head slightly, as if surprised I would ask, and then answered in a calm voice.

“Hmm, if I remember correctly, the first thing that’ll happen is night blindness. At first, it’ll just be hard to see in the dark, but eventually, even indoor lighting won’t be enough. I won’t be able to navigate in dim places at all.”

She explained casually, as if discussing the weather.

“Then my field of vision will get narrower and narrower—like looking through a straw. Eventually, it’ll be too blurry to even recognize someone’s face right in front of me. That’s what happened with my left eye.”

She paused to take another sip of cola and bit into her pizza, nodding approvingly as if to say it was delicious.

“And after that, well, you can guess the rest.”

“…I see.”

Unable to think of anything else to say, I sat in silence. She gave me a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry. My right eye isn’t that bad yet. The doctor said I’ll be able to live normally for a while longer.”

“…That’s good, at least.”

She ate most of the pizza. By the time I was finishing my third slice, she had already polished off an entire pie.

I didn’t mind. I wasn’t particularly hungry to begin with, and if I’d been alone, I probably would’ve left most of it uneaten anyway.

She insisted on paying the bill, and we agreed I’d cover the next meal. Feeling bad about freeloading, I bought us coffee at a nearby café. Two cups ended up costing almost as much as the pizza.

Holding our plastic takeout cups, we walked down the street. The blazing heat made it tempting to collapse on the spot, but sipping on the iced coffee helped us push through. Beads of condensation gathered on the cups as if they, too, were sweating in the heat.

“It’s ridiculously hot for the start of summer,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Can you believe it’s still only June?”

“Yeah.”

“At this rate, the world might end in August,” she said with a laugh.

The absurdity of her joke made me chuckle softly. I took a sip of my coffee, the cold bitterness spreading through my mouth.

When we reached a four-way intersection a couple of blocks from the library, she stopped and said,

“I need to head this way. My friend should be here soon.”

“Time flew by, huh?”

“Time always flies when you’re having fun.”

“You and I clearly have different definitions of fun.”

“Ugh, you never say anything nice,” she muttered, sighing theatrically and furrowing her brow.

I sipped my coffee nonchalantly.

“Oh, by the way,” she said suddenly. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Why?”

Feigning innocence, she replied with the tone of a teacher explaining something to a child,

“When someone asks if you’re free, it usually means they want to meet up.”

“…You think I don’t know that?”

“Well, you seemed clueless. I even kept my schedule open for tomorrow.”

“And if I’d said I was busy?”

“Wait, are you?”

“No.”

“…You’re impossible.”

She jabbed her finger into my side, making me flinch involuntarily.

“Ticklish, huh?” she said, amused.

“Isn’t everyone?”

“Not me. Go ahead, try.” She tilted her side toward me, inviting a poke.

I sighed and replied flatly, “…No, thanks.”

Still chuckling, she said, “So, what time works for you tomorrow?”

“Any time’s fine.”

“Great! Let’s meet at 11 a.m. under the clock in the town square. Deal?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t forget, okay? See you tomorrow!” She waved as she backed away. “And don’t slack off on your studying!”

I waved back half-heartedly.

“…Yeah.”

I watched her dart across the street as the crosswalk signal blinked green, then turned back toward the library.

So, we’re meeting tomorrow again. The thought of enduring another day of her relentless energy already felt exhausting.

I wondered idly: what if I were to lose my sight, too?

What would it be like to lose this familiar world in just a few months?

The thought didn’t stick. It felt too abstract, too detached from my reality. I wasn’t the one with such a condition.

All I could muster was a vague sense of pity.

For a fleeting moment, I considered being grateful for the ability to see this ordinary scenery—but the thought drifted away, carried off by the humid summer breeze.

Back in the reading room, her presence lingered in the little mess we’d left behind. I probably should’ve cleaned it up, but with so few people around, I doubted anyone would care.

Sitting down, I opened my workbook again. But before starting, my eyes fell on the children’s constellation book she had left behind.

For a moment, I opened it.