Real Life is Rather Crushing

His hand cupped underneath mine as the other gently rested the change in the palm of my hand. "Would you like the reciept?" he asked softly, as soft as his fingers on my skin.

He touched me, my mind sparked as I breathed a shy, "No, thank you," unsure as to why exactly he had done so. Most don't, especially not to give me two ten-yen coins. It couldn't have been for anything romantically inclined. No doubt he had been a student of mine, one that I've taught once, long ago. It wouldn't be the first time some part-timer at a fast-food restaurant or convenience store looked at me with surprise and recognition.

Yes, that must have been it, I thought to myself, as I left the curry restaurant and walked away from the young man and his soft, presumptuous hands. There couldn't have been any other reason for him to have been interested in me.