The widow landlady of my boarding house, who lost her husband, always looks after me, a college student. I had gradually become attracted to her as she even prepared home-cooked meals for me, knowing I'm too busy to eat properly. One torrential rain night, the landlady, soaking wet, visited my room to seek shelter. As I told myself "I mustn't look" while staring at her skin showing through her sheer blouse, she whispered, "You can look, you know?" Triggered by those words, the distance between us slowly but surely closed to zero.
