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"Why do dandelions wither at your touch?" You asked him.

Lone man glanced at you. He blinked twice before looking at the sky. He shrugged. "Ever since I became like this."

"Will I wither away too?"

He quickly shook his head. "No, you won't. He stared at you for a couple of seconds. "Never."

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There was silence between the two of you. You smiled at him, which relieved the tension in his body language.

"Will you promise me something?" the lone man said.

Under the moonlight, it felt like the two of you were standing in opposite worlds. The dandelions around you were luscious, while his had already withered away. You could see yourself—the style and color of your sweater, the white under your nails, the pants you wore—and then him, a shadow with round eyes.

"Anything," You replied.

"Will you tell me if you feel something isn't right?"

"I will."

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