He understood that apologies were not invitations to explanations. He slid a notebook across the desk and beneath it a new note, the sort of one he had learned to write: brief, honest, unadorned.
I have to go, it said. I'm leaving for a while. Please don't follow. toshoshitsu no kanojo seiso na kimi ga ochiru m upd
He wanted to tell her that she didn't disturb; she rearranged. That was dangerous to say aloud. Instead, he asked, "Do you ever want to stop being careful? To throw a book in the air and see where it lands?" He understood that apologies were not invitations to
Months blurred into seasons. He told himself she had found a different quiet elsewhere, that perhaps she practiced the art of being careful with other people now. He taped a leaf of hers—one she’d once lent him to study—inside a book and checked it nightly as a talisman. I'm leaving for a while
"Why do you look like you walk on your toes when you’re thinking?" he asked, smiling.