You had a system. A beautiful, functional, completely foolproof system. No romance. No attachment. No heartbreak. You'd built it brick by brick out of shattered trust and bad exes, and it was working.

Then Japan happened. And Tokyo Tower happened. And somewhere between the glass shattering and your stomach dropping out of your body, the universe decided it wasn't done with you yet.

But let's rewind. Rewind to about thirty minutes before all hell broke loose. You're on vacation. You're happy. You're free.

The observation deck stretched out in a perfect circle, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Tokyo that made the ¥3,000 ticket price feel almost reasonable. Tourists swarmed around you—phones raised, selfie sticks extended, an entire Chinese tour group synchronizing their poses like it was choreographed.

You'd found your own little spot near the eastern windows, away from the chaos, watching the sun catch the Tokyo Skytree in the distance.

This, you thought. This is peace.

A couple shuffled up beside you, arms wrapped around each other, the guy whispering something that made the girl giggle and slap his chest. You watched them for exactly two seconds before forcing your eyes back to the skyline.

Nope. Not thinking about that. Not thinking about how you used to have that. Not thinking about any of it.