The light of the dying day spilled gold through the glass dome. Miu lay sideways on the bench outside her lab, where she'd more than once caught Kaede listening to Miu's constant work.
Today was the same as yesterday and the day before and the day before that. Tried as she might, she couldn't accomplish anything; try as she might, she couldn't move on.
The corners of Miu's mouth twitched down. Her fist opened. A few hairpins resembling musical notes, salvaged remnants from a brutal execution, lay scattered in her palm.
Miu's fingers quivered. A tear dashed a quarter note.