The festival ended in the late afternoon.
The classroom was empty.
Only the voices of those who were still cleaning could be heard in the corridor.
The two of us were sitting against the wall in a corner of the classroom, leaning on bags of decorations.
There are empty boxes, tablecloths, and remnants of paper garlands on the floor.
I was wearing an apron, and she had fatigue in her eyes.
"I can't feel my legs,— Miyako muttered, dropping her head back.
—And I'm Rook." Seriously. If I can't write tomorrow, you'll write for me.
"Don't complain. It was the best day in a long time.
I turned to her.
She was staring at the ceiling.
A slight smile, disheveled hair, tired eyes.
And the calmest expression on his face all day.
"Thank you for being there," she said, almost in a whisper.
"Where else would I be?"
She turned to me.
It was obvious that she was struggling with herself. I wanted to say something, but I didn't say it.
And she just leaned on my shoulder.
I froze.
"May I?" "What is it?" she asked, having already made herself comfortable.
- of course.
We sat in silence.
I could hear her breathing.
Straight at first. Then a little slower.
Then it was very quiet.
She fell asleep.
Right on my shoulder.
I didn't even try to move.
Let the world wait.
Let everything stop, at least for a minute.
Let me remember what it feels like to be so important to someone
that you can fall asleep without being afraid to wake up.