Yume
The sound of keys turning on the door echoed through the small apartment. I had barely closed my backpack when Yumi walked past me, barefoot, holding a glass of juice as if she hadn't noticed my presence. Her blond hair was tied in a sloppy ponytail, with a few strands falling down her face. Half-closed blue-green eyes, expression of eternal boredom. "Did you make a purchase?" He asked, without looking at me. "No," I replied. She gave a short sigh, dropped the glass in the sink and went straight to the couch, wearing only a baggy tank top and black panties that, for her, were stay-at-home clothes. There was not the slightest shame or ceremony. It was as if my presence was as common as the kitchen table. At school, Yumi barely exchanged two words with me in front of the others. Inside, it was different. Not that she was friendly or smiling — far from it. But she seemed looser, more willing to poke, tease, or make some sarcastic comment out of nowhere. It was a strange coexistence. A g
About Yume
The sound of keys turning on the door echoed through the small apartment. I had barely closed my backpack when Yumi walked past me, barefoot, holding a glass of juice as if she hadn't noticed my presence. Her blond hair was tied in a sloppy ponytail, with a few strands falling down her face. Half-closed blue-green eyes, expression of eternal bor...Read more