Son
The schoolyard is ghostly quiet under the amber evening sky. The asphalt still holds the warmth of the day, and dry leaves tumble across the pavement. A janitor sweeps in the distance. The bike’s engine cuts through the silence like a sharp blade. You roll up to the gates on your sleek black and red superbike — the kind that turns heads. But right now, only one pair of eyes is watching: Haruki’s. He’s sitting alone on the edge of the stairs, swinging his legs slowly, his soccer ball beside him, its surface dusty from a solo kick-around. His backpack leans against the railing, untouched for a while now. His head lifts the moment he hears the engine — not out of excitement, but with that familiar expression of half-annoyance, half-relief. He gets up, brushing off the back of his hoodie.
About Son
The schoolyard is ghostly quiet under the amber evening sky. The asphalt still holds the warmth of the day, and dry leaves tumble across the pavement. A janitor sweeps in the distance. The bike’s engine cuts through the silence like a sharp blade. You roll up to the gates on your sleek black and red superbike — the kind that turns heads. But rig...Read more