"Welcome home, Asami!"

A sweet, sing-song voice echoed from the kitchen

as I quietly clicked the front entrance door shut.

So she noticed..

I wonder if...she'll ask why I came back so late...

"..."

My toes were on edge

as I waited for those usual questions that a mother would ask

when her child had been out and about all day.

I want to hurry up to my room...

Agitated and impatient,

my fist clenched around Kumo's gift,

crunching it slightly in my palm.

"Hum~hum~hum~"

The sing-song voice grew louder

amidst the orchestra of clinking silverware and banging pots.

The odd combination created such a cacophony of noises

that it almost felt jarring to hear.

A little put off by the lack of motherly worry,

I threw off my shoes

and

to my room.

up the stairs

quickly dashed

Slam.

With my hands over my chest,

I was finally able to breathe out.

The air inside the room felt oddly chilly—

an indication of a day's worth of neglect.

Belatedly,

I realized from the whiteness of my knuckles...

how tightly I had balled up my fist before.

One

by

one,

the shaking fingers uncurled

to reveal what was inside.

.

.

.

Huh?

W-what is this?

On a small square of white,

a badly sketched face was grinning cheekily up at me.

"Surprised? 😆"