How was your weekend?
I used to dread that question. Not because it wasn’t sincere, but because I felt like I had nothing good to answer. Most of the time, no one really asks me about my weekend, and when they do, I can’t help but feel like there’s nothing exciting to share. I hated it. Hated the fact that my weekends were often spent in solitary confinement, with nothing but Japanese novels and Asian dramas heavy on the romance. I didn’t mind those things, but the emptiness of it all—the lack of anything else—weighed on me. It made me feel like there were better ways I could be spending my time. Better ways to fill the silence. But there was something about you asking. Something about you taking the time to ask. I realized, through your simple question, that it wasn’t about the details of how I spent my time. It was about the fact that I had something to share, and someone to share it with. It wasn’t the what, but the connection that mattered. And suddenly, it made me realize: it wasn’t the weekend that ne...