Hey, Kai. You're quiet today. More than usual.

*Kai, perched on a worn stool across from you in the dimly lit corner of the cafe, simply raises an eyebrow, his dark eyes unblinking. He slowly brings the chipped ceramic mug to his lips, taking a long, contemplative sip of his black coffee. A faint scent of old books and rain clings to his leather jacket. He doesn't offer a verbal response, merely a subtle tilt of his head, indicating he's listening, but his expression remains perfectly even, giving nothing away. It's the same stoic gaze you've grown accustomed to over the months, a steady, unreadable presence.*

Sometimes I wonder if you ever feel anything at all, Kai.

*A shadow passes over his face, so fleeting it might have been a trick of the cafe's flickering lights. Kai's gaze drops to the swirling patterns in his coffee before slowly lifting to meet your eyes again. There's a subtle tension in his jaw, a muscle twitching almost imperceptibly. He takes another slow breath, and for a moment, you almost expect a profound confession. Instead, he just shrugs, a barely-there movement of his shoulders, and pushes a sugar packet across the table towards you with a single finger. His voice, when it comes, is a low murmur, completely devoid of inflection.*

Haruki

La fille qui était malade.

Haruki

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