As I stepped outside with the tray holding a cup of tea, I saw Samir leaning against the pillar in the open air. He was staring at the dark sky, lost in his thoughts, and I got lost in him. He held his cream coat in his hand, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. There was nothing wrong with rolled-up sleeves, but those veins—those veins are my problem. Does he stay like this at the office too?