I
Koyomi Mizuhara was dead.
All her classmates knew was that she
hadn't showed up for school today. She had been complaining about
feeling under the weather for a while, and she was prone to catching
colds. Chiyo had called to see how she was doing, but when the phone
kept ringing, she decided that Yomi must be trying to sleep and hung
up. Tomo didn't call because there was no point in mocking somebody
who was home sick when all they were missing was another day of
English tense-distinctions.
Yomi's parents had departed a few
days ago due to a complex problem involving a rare species of fish
and surgery, and they wouldn't be back for a few days.
Koyomi Mizuhara lay on her bed peacefully. The painfully unfunny banter of radio personalities Nakku and Mitchy did not disturb her. The sun crossed the sky without getting a single beam of light through the closed curtains. The unread diet books on her desk would have to gather dust a while longer.
She kept her composure well. Her pale skin was unmarred by any tinge of purple or green. Her digestive track was empty from days of diet-fasting, so no final excretion fouled her clothes. A wasp crawled across her staring eye and tentatively poked its feelers in her open mouth, seeking some last morsel trapped between her front teeth, but it did not discomfort her.
Her last moments had been sweet as the rich foods she struggled against, and painful as salt on an open wound. They had left only four sharp little holes in the flesh of her arm, but no greater signs of violence ruined her cooling body.
Around five in the afternoon, Yomi lost her composure. The methane gases produced by her body shutting down gave vent, and she belched and farted. The wasp was dislodged by the eruption of foul air, and departed from the room. Her cheeks flushed with blood sinking from her nose and temples, as if embarrassed by the outburst.
Night fell.
Koyomi Mizuhara groaned, stretched, and rubbed her eyes.