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Ryou's POV: Reflections
"Thank you"
Softly spoken words of gratitude.
"You're welcome."
I don't think she herd me, the crowded halls can be so noisy, chaotic, cacophonous even.
I'm not quite used to it all yet, it's a drastic change from the quiet, ordered simplicity of the private school I attended in England, or even the slightly less quiet and ordered school in Japan. Although, at the same time, it's almost a relief, a release from the stuffy, mechanic, day in and day out routine.
I join the last students trickling out to their busses and cars. I notice Tea by her locker. She is wearing on of the faintest smiles I've ever seen. Never, in my whole two days here, have I seen her smile in the least. Not once.
But the smile, or ghost of one, is genuine, and seems to lighten her whole disposition. A tall blonde woman strides up behind her and taps her shoulder. The peace that seemed to come over her vanished, the moment broken.
I turn to leave, but my eyes linger on her honey-colored hair. She pauses, her head turns ever so slightly. Our eyes meet again and the ghost smile returns, so fleetingly I almost didn't see it.
Then she turned and followed the blonde woman to a red convertible in the parking lot.
I watch as the vehicle pulls out of the lot and drives off down the highway that runs through town.
Ryou's POV: Reflections
"Thank you"
Softly spoken words of gratitude.
"You're welcome."
I don't think she herd me, the crowded halls can be so noisy, chaotic, cacophonous even.
I'm not quite used to it all yet, it's a drastic change from the quiet, ordered simplicity of the private school I attended in England, or even the slightly less quiet and ordered school in Japan. Although, at the same time, it's almost a relief, a release from the stuffy, mechanic, day in and day out routine.
I join the last students trickling out to their busses and cars. I notice Tea by her locker. She is wearing on of the faintest smiles I've ever seen. Never, in my whole two days here, have I seen her smile in the least. Not once.
But the smile, or ghost of one, is genuine, and seems to lighten her whole disposition. A tall blonde woman strides up behind her and taps her shoulder. The peace that seemed to come over her vanished, the moment broken.
I turn to leave, but my eyes linger on her honey-colored hair. She pauses, her head turns ever so slightly. Our eyes meet again and the ghost smile returns, so fleetingly I almost didn't see it.
Then she turned and followed the blonde woman to a red convertible in the parking lot.
I watch as the vehicle pulls out of the lot and drives off down the highway that runs through town.