Sayori called me Wednesday. Already asking when I'm coming back to see her. She sounded tired.

One of the three classes I had Thursday was canceled the evening before, so I decided to skip the others and catch the train first thing in the morning to Kawasaki to see her. Turns out you can't just visit people there without scheduling ahead of time, even for voluntary committals, so I made an appointment for Saturday and headed back home. The almost-hour I had to wait for the next train was unpleasant, to say the least- never would have thought about setting up an appointment to visit Sayori. It would've been worse if I told her I was coming and wasn't allowed to see her, but it was still mildly heartbreaking.

By the time I got back home to Machida, I was feeling a little better, so I stopped by Sayori's apartment one last time to finish her laundry. When I leave, the place is spotless, cleaner than I can ever remember it being, even on a good day. All the trash is gone, I cleaned out all the expired food in the fridge and the cabinets, all her clothes are pressed and folded or hanging in the closet… maybe went a little too hard on that last one, arranging everything by color. I'm not exactly sure why I did that, but I can't deny there's something pleasing about it.

My work done, I headed back to my own apartment for the first time in a week- or, at least, for the first time in a week longer than it took me to grab a change of clothes or two. Comparatively, my place is a mess now, three days dirty clothes scattered around my bedroom prior to last Thursday, notes and books throughout the house- stacked on my little living room table, the desk in my bedroom, the nightstand to the side of the bed. I spent the next few hours tidying up -much less work than Sayori's place, five days in the making- and by six, I was so tired I skipped dinner and went to bed.

I wake up nearly fourteen hours later. At first, I'm a little disoriented, the muscles in my back sore from lying too long in the same position, head filled with dreams of better days. The sun streams in through a crack in the curtains, what little can get through the blinds behind them, right across my eyes. I check the time on my phone with a groan and turn over, away from the blinding light of day that's forced its way into my blackened sanctuary. But the ache in my back doesn't go away, and after a spell of tossing and turning, I slide my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. There's a text notification on my lock screen when I check my phone again, and I unlock it without fully parsing the details-

From- Natsuki

8:03: Hi MC.

Head still half-buried in sleep, I don't know what to do with that, so I let it sit as I get up, stagger to the shower, and go about my normal morning routine. Any other Friday, I would've been in a lab already by the time that text came in, but this is one of the few weeks I don't have one for that class -Anatomy, a required science credit I put off for too long already- and I take my time. The only other class I have on Fridays is ten-thirty to noon, and today I'm working from twelve-thirty to five-thirty.

I feel a lot better after I step out of the steamed-up bathroom, even if there's still a little bit of a twinge when I turn to my left. Guess I just needed sleep a lot worse than I realized… mild pain in my side aside, I feel better than I have all week.

To- Natsuki

8:32: Hi.

8:33: How are you?

I ran through three dozen possible conversations while I was getting ready, but I still don't know what else to say. I know what I want to say, a thousand different apologies, an explanation for how bad things have gotten lately, more apologies, but trying to dump everything on her all at once seems like an incredibly foolish thing to do. Part of me thinks we might go right back to the way we used to be, but the other part reminds me how much Yuri has changed in recent months alone. I haven't talked to Natsuki in close to two years… almost as long as the two of us dated.

I'm just second-guessing myself now. Anything is the wrong thing to say. If I let myself think like that, this is already pointless.

I leave the apartment shortly after sending the second text, hoping that putting myself out in public will give me something else to focus on, however temporary that might be, and let me not worry myself sick in the meantime. I make it to the bus stop a few minutes before it rolls up, which is nice after the long wait for the train yesterday. The stop I get off at is a couple blocks from my school's campus, but it's the best I can do this time of day. Even with the walk, I end up outside the classroom twenty minutes early; I spend the wait flipping through forums on my phone looking for cheap ways to brighten up Sayori's apartment for when she's able to come home. Not like there's much else I can do with twenty minutes.

Five minutes into the class, I realize I could -and probably should- have skipped this today. I didn't realize, or maybe just didn't remember, this is one of four weeks throughout the semester that we have a guest lecturer. Like Anatomy, Poetry Analysis I is a class I should have taken long ago, but if I'm being honest with myself, I've never been that into poetry. After graduating high school -and no longer bearing the responsibility of writing a new poem for the Literature Club every week- I lost all interest in it. The club did make me realize how much I enjoy literary analysis, though, which is how I ended up majoring in Literary Studies and with a minor in Elementary Education.

For whatever reason, the guest lecturer this week is from the Library Studies department. It seems… needlessly arbitrary, like the school is trying to convince students in my major to reconsider their choices. I don't think too many people go into Literary Studies with the intent of becoming a critic… seems more likely to me that it's a specific literary field-related interest, something one might want to teach.

Maybe I'm being too cynical. I'm sure there are plenty of people taking this their first or second semester that aren't sure what they want to do once they graduate, or if they're even in the right major. I guess, to be fair, I wasn't either, my first semester. Sayori and I both enrolled as Language Arts majors our first semester, though I switched before finals.

Either way, being a librarian is something I never considered, and try as I might, I can't make myself interested in this. I make it to eleven-thirty before I give up and quietly make my way out of the classroom. It works out for the better- instead of having to power-walk the couple miles between school and the 7-Eleven I work at, I can take my time.

From- Natsuki

10:45: Okay. Sorry I didn't call earlier in the week… been crazy at work. Head chef quit, and I'm technically in charge.

I'm not quite stunned, but somewhere close. The interview Natsuki was supposed to go to the day I missed our breakfast date was for a prep cook… wonder if she's moved up in the same place, or if this is something different.

To- Natsuki

11:40: Wow, that sounds like a lot of responsibility.

From- Natsuki

11:47: You have no idea. I'm about to start my shift, so I gotta go. Text back if you want, I'll get to you when I'm on break later.

11:49: Actually, do you maybe want to grab lunch tomorrow? We'd have to go early… and you'd have to come down to Chigasaki. My treat, though.

To- Natsuki

12:03: Sure, what time?

12:07: Ah… actually, I've got something to do Saturday morning in Kawasaki. I don't think I could make back to you in time. Assuming you probably work the same time tomorrow.

12:08: Sunday?

I don't have too much time before my shift starts, and the five hours I'm on the clock pass much quicker than the hour and a half I spent in class. My mind wanders from time to time, what Sayori might be doing, when Natsuki might text me back, but for the most part, I have enough work to do to keep me occupied.

The bus back to my apartment shows up about fifteen minutes after I get off shift, a quarter-hour earlier than I expected, and I spend the time it idles flipping through a few more ideas on my phone. Lots of flowers, arrangements I don't think I'll ever be able to pull off, even with help. Others are silly, like covering the floor of her bedroom with paper cranes… too much work, and such a waste of paper. Burying the bed in a layer of candies might work, although I think letting Sayori pick out a couple dozen yen's worth of candy from a shop might have the same effect.

Unless I come across something that gives me pause, I think I'll leave things where they are for now. Her apartment is cleaner than I can ever remember it being, her closet and dresser are organized. Whenever she decides she's ready to come home, we can stop and pick up food on the way home, and I'll cook whatever she wants.

Back home, I take another shower -usually only take one, but I was so beat last night that I didn't even think about it- and throw on some casual clothes. Having been at Sayori's all week, I only just now realize I didn't do my usual Sunday morning grocery shopping, and the only thing in the cabinets is a single cup of instant ramen. In a few words, it's dry and disappointing. I think about ordering takeout after choking half of it down, or going out to get something, but it's after seven now, and I can't be bothered. I had something, anyways, so it could be a lot worse.

Today felt like I stepped into an alternate universe and got stuck in the liminal space between it and home. My apartment feels foreign, even though I know it like the palm of my hand, an unsettling sense of jamais vu. It fills my chest, fighting with a sense of hope I don't know if I'm ready to hold onto yet.

It feels like the rain has stopped, for the first time in a long time, but I can still see the clouds lingering overhead, dark, angry. I've been here before, we've been here before.

Tomorrow will be better. There's only so much further down we can go, but I think we came close enough to the bottom. Now it's time to climb back up.

Tomorrow will be better.

From: Natsuki

00:22: Sorry MC, just got home. Sunday morning breakfast?