The Next Morning.
"Be good to her."
Rin's voice from weeks ago echoes in my skull as I sprint, the words syncing with the hammer of my pulse. That day at the vending machines, his calm eyes had cut right through me—still cut through me—even now.
"Or what?" I'd wanted to sneer. "You'll take her back?"
My foot snags on a crack in the asphalt. I stumble forward, lungs screaming in protest.
Pathetic.
The sky above churns a restless gray, heavy with unfallen rain. The air smells sharp, metallic. Dampness clings to my skin, sweat mingling with the cold breeze as I push through the final lap. My sneakers slap against the wet track, the rhythm dulling the ache in my chest. The pain is easier to manage than the memory of Kaori's face yesterday—her stricken expression as I turned and walked away.
"What do you want?" I hadn't meant to sound so desperate. I'd meant to sound detached—indifferent—but I'd sounded desperate instead, like a cornered animal.
