The night of Tokyo's business never happened to bring back the feelings of silence.

In the hotel suite in Tokyo late in the night, the woman OL was wearing a shirt and a narrow skirt, and she saw a few years ago, and she was pouring wine and looking at him in the light, and she was looking up at him, and she didn't mean to touch his wrists, and she stayed too long, and the rainbow was on her slightly red cheek, and she suddenly downped her voice and asked him if she remembers that night's promise that the air would be quieter, that she would be closer to her breath, that the coldness in the workplace would be broken into pieces, and the light would be on her shoulder, and her eyes would be on his shoulder, and her eyes would no longer be in hiding, but the temperature would be out of control, and the car outside the window.