I looked a little strangely at myself, pushing the door open button as if my hands had a will of their own. There were moments like this. Moments that I felt like I had repeated countless times, even though it was obviously the first. The elevator doors opened again, moments before they closed, and people pushed their way in. Among those people, I searched for a person wearing their hair tied with a yellow elastic. I hadn't pushed the door open button with the knowledge that that person would be there, but I thought that it was obvious that they would be. I moved back step by step. The cold wall of the elevator touched my back, and I raised my head and saw the yellow elastic.
A person's back tells a lot of stories. It was just that I had heard a few of them. A few things I could only guess at, and a few things were left unexplained even after they were over. I suddenly thought that you can only say you know a person when you can read everything just from their back. Then wouldn't there be someone who could read everything from my back? As I lifted my head, our gazes met in the mirror, and in a flash they avoided my eyes. This kind of thing happened often. When I lifted my head again, I could see only my face in the mirror. I couldn't see my back.
TRANSLATED BY @ORIGAMYFIREFLY. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST.