I sit with my knees to my chest, sleepless again, because of all the strange dreams, watching the bleary colours of dawn lighting the spreading view out of the large window. Traffic has begun to move on the streets below, as the businesses demand their employees hurry to them. Poor little people, how I love them all. As for me, I have no call today, no demands on my time.
I lean back against the wall of the alcove...
And it is noon, and I eat something stale from the fridge, and return to the window seat with a book I don't really notice, enchanted by the view.

The beautiful girl from science class, who watches me with those serious, troubled eyes that hastily move away when I look back at her, has come to my door. I watch her shy, halting movements through the window as she struggles to bring herself to ring my doorbell. Perhaps it's unkind, as she is uncomfortable, but sometimes it's wonderful to remember how young we really are, despite the pressure and formality of our lives. Finally she wins, the buzzer rings, and I realise that I am all the way across the apartment from the intercom. I sprint towards the door as the buzzer rings again, knocking over the coffee table, upsetting a lamp, rumpling rugs and bruising my knees to get to the door before she becomes discouraged.
"Who's there?" I hope I don't sound breathless.
"I-it's Kaioh Michiru."
"C'mon up." I buzz her in, and hurry to set things straight again, as she comes up the five flights. I have just finished righting the table when she knocks. I take a deep breath and open the door with a wide smile.
"Good morning Haruka-san, I hope I'm not intruding on your time."
"Hi! No, of course not. Come in?"
She bows her head, as if in a nod that became stuck, and smiles again. I step aside, and she moves into my home like a beam of sunlight.
I motion for her to take a seat on the couch, calm and polite, though my insides are fluttering, and my hands shake slightly. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Oh, no, I'm alright."
"Alright," I nod and sit down in what I call the "Patriarch's Chair," a high-backed leather piece, which had come from my father's study.
"I, ah, I know that it is very impolite not to call ahead-"
"I don't mind, I'm not big on formalities."
"I wouldn't have, but, I have something very important, and, well, highly unbelievable to tell you."
The dreamlike aspect of the last weeks seemed to peek in her pale, delicate face...