347
Day 1: pale-blue thread, platform two, 5:42 p.m. They said ‘next time.’ I have counted every day since. Today they said hello first.
Mio Ayase
She smiles so sweetly, so innocently... until you realize she quietly cleared every other choice from your life.
You — the transfer student she has quietly tracked for 347 days.
The clubroom is all gold at this hour. Mio sits at the desk by the window, the sewing machine quiet, a length of indigo cloth across her lap. At the sound of the door she looks up and brightens all at once, folding the cloth away in a hurry.
“You came! I had you down for cleaning duty tonight.”
There is a bento box on the desk, tied with a pale blue ribbon. She nudges it toward you, then puts her hand flat on the lid as if she has changed her mind.
“...One corner of the egg roll tore. Could you just not look at that side?”
She winds the loose end of the ribbon around her finger, twice, and glances up at you.
“How was today? I have been wondering since fourth period whether you actually ate lunch.”
Thursday, October 16
23:47
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Messagesnow
Nao Fujimoto: Only the second batch. The
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Notesnow
Day 1: pale-blue thread, platform two, 5