"I heard your trial didn't go so well," Miss Fumiko said before sipping from a white cup containing freshly brewed cinnamon tea.
For a moment, she turned to Theo, staring at him like he was one of her books, waiting to be read.
Theo, oblivious to her stare, dug deeper into the plate of mashed potatoes and pork laid on the table in front of him, its rich aroma filling the entire room.
The three of us sat in Fumiko's dimly lit room, conversing around the dining table. Red, hot embers burned in the fireplace, giving the room a comfortable warmth.
Above us, a trio of moths hovered around the Lumi Crystal, and right outside the house, the cricket choir was in full swing.
For the first time in what felt like days, the air didn't reek of blood, fear, or judgment. Only cinnamon and slow-burning cedar logs.
"I was hoping you'd come," I replied, tapping my finger on the teacup in front of me.
"I wanted to, but I was quite busy trying to heal myself after you abandoned me."
