"Kurume, your hair is sticking out."
"Where?"
I leaned closer to her.
She casually smoothed my hair with her fingers—and suddenly froze.
Her hand remained in place, and her eyes became too serious for a moment.
"That's it,— she said, looking away. — Fixed it.
—Thanks, Miyako,— I said.
"I just don't want you to embarrass yourself in front of school."
—Before school... or before you?"
She didn't say anything. I just picked up a notebook and started writing something.
But I saw the corners of her lips twitch.
The lessons dragged on like chewing gum.
We corresponded on paper.
The teachers discussed it. They were laughing.
Sometimes our hands accidentally touched under the desk.
Too often for it to be accidental.
After lessons
"Shall we go home?" I asked, putting the books away.
"And if I say I want to stay and clean up?"
"Then I'll stay with you." Even if everything is already clean.
"Sounds like a suggestion,— she chuckled.
"Almost."
We left school together.
It was already getting dark outside, and the sky was overcast.
She was walking a little closer than usual.
I could feel his elbow touching mine.
She didn't say anything.
And I didn't want to either.
They were just walking.
In a silence in which there was no awkwardness.
At the intersection, she suddenly stopped.
— Thank you for being... always there.
I looked at her.
She blushed slightly, but she didn't turn away.
"Where else would I go?" I replied.
—Stupid," she said, and without looking at me, she nudged me with her shoulder.
I laughed.
She is too.