They walked slowly, not because the rain was heavy, but because neither of them wanted the moment to end. Yuna told her about the noisy dormitory, the terrible cafeteria curry, the stray cat she’d named “Little Mai” because it was stubborn and refused to be pet by anyone else.
The rain came down in thick, silver sheets, turning the familiar walk home from school into a river of shallow puddles. Mai huddled under the narrow awning of a closed bookstore, her schoolbag clutched to her chest like a shield. She’d forgotten her umbrella again. Again.
Mai rolled her eyes, but she was already planning to buy a new umbrella tomorrow. Bright yellow. Exactly like Yuna’s.
Yuna ruffled her hair, the way she had when they were little and Mai had skinned her knee or lost a race or felt the world was too big and lonely.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Mom: “Stay under cover. Yuna’s train got in early. She’s coming to get you.”
“I know you do, silly,” Yuna said. “That’s why you’re my favorite sister.”
They walked slowly, not because the rain was heavy, but because neither of them wanted the moment to end. Yuna told her about the noisy dormitory, the terrible cafeteria curry, the stray cat she’d named “Little Mai” because it was stubborn and refused to be pet by anyone else.
The rain came down in thick, silver sheets, turning the familiar walk home from school into a river of shallow puddles. Mai huddled under the narrow awning of a closed bookstore, her schoolbag clutched to her chest like a shield. She’d forgotten her umbrella again. Again.
Mai rolled her eyes, but she was already planning to buy a new umbrella tomorrow. Bright yellow. Exactly like Yuna’s.
Yuna ruffled her hair, the way she had when they were little and Mai had skinned her knee or lost a race or felt the world was too big and lonely.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Mom: “Stay under cover. Yuna’s train got in early. She’s coming to get you.”
“I know you do, silly,” Yuna said. “That’s why you’re my favorite sister.”