The air used to reek of rot; now it just stung with stale heaviness. The lone lamp threw elongated shadows across organized heaps of garbage and wiped-down surfaces, giving the room a functional, though hardly welcoming, look. I exhaled tiredly and watched Renji pick at the hem of his shirt.
He mumbled, "It's late. The last bus is gone. You… could stay. I have a futon."
My stomach twisted. The instinctive recoil was mortifying. A single futon, shared between us—intolerable. I'd come to clear his mess, not become entangled in it. My resolve to leave was ironclad, but this body recoiled from conflict. I needed a way out.
A plan glinted in my mind. "I can't just decide that,"
I said, voice unsteady in Kairi's tone as I lifted my smartphone.
"I should call my mother first. Just to check."
The lie rolled off my tongue.
When I hung up, Renji asked.
"She said it's okay?"
I nodded while grounding my teeth inside, clenching my jaw.
