The streets had grown quiet as night settled in. The orange hues of the sun had long faded, and now the moon hung like a pale coin in the sky, casting its faint glow over the winding road.
Kafka's scooter hummed steadily, carrying him and Olivia through the main round that was surrounded by green rice paddies that had just been planted. She sat in front of him as always, obedient, silent, her hands resting lightly on the handlebars.
But tonight was different.
Normally, Kafka would be teasing her, saying something ridiculous to provoke her blush, or tossing out a remark just to watch her fluster.
But right now? He didn't dare, since Olivia wasn't herself.
The dreamy glaze in her eyes, the way her cheeks were flushed pink, and the faint, heated panting in her breath, it all made her look like she was somewhere else entirely. Like she wasn't sitting on a scooter at all, but drifting through some feverish fantasy.
