As Misaki disappeared into the building, Shizuo checked his phone. It was nearly 9 PM. Shizuo smiled. "I kept her this late... her parents will surely get mad."
He stopped for a moment and pull out his wired earphones and put in one earbud in. His fingers quickly tapped his phone to play his usual playlist. But he stopped right before hitting play. "Why don't I try something different this time?" He pressed the shuffle button and started walking.
The silence of the cool night was occasionally broken by the humming of the street lamps. As Shizuo walked, he kept glancing down at his feet. "Why did I stop dragging my feet?" he wondered. An image of Misaki lecturing him formed in his head. "That girl…" he whispered as he shook his head. "Why does she care about me so much?" he smiled.
Before Shizuo realized it, he had made his way back home. When he slowly slid the key in and opened the door, he was greeted by the same cold apartment, but this time, it didn't feel hostile.
Shizuo dropped his bag by the door and quickly took his shoes off. "Man… I'm hungry," he thought as he hopefully opened his empty fridge. He pulled out the spicy noodles from the previous day and started boiling water.
He watched the boiler, lost in thought. He kept replaying his interactions with her. Her graceful voice, her warm smile, and her kiddishly-cute laugh kept playing on loop in his head. He was pulled out of the clouds when the kettle started whistling.
"OHH SH*T, I forgot." He quickly turned off the boiler and poured the water into the cup. Picking up his chopsticks, he started eating. As he finished eating the noodles, he though, "Wait… these aren't even that bad."
But before he instinctively threw the cup into the huge pile on the counter, he paused. He got closer to the pile to inspect it, but his nose was assaulted by the scent of rotting food. He contorted his face in disgust. "
This is repulsing," he thought gagging.
He started digging in the drawers, with a desperate face. He slowly pulled out the mask and the gloves from one of the drawers. Putting on the gloves, he walked over to the huge pile.
He quietly put the moldy plastic cups into a big plastic bag. "While I'm at it, why don't I throw those out too…" he looked over to the mountain of crushed soda cans. He picked them one by one and put them in the bag.
"That should do," he thought, dragging the plastic bag behind him, and opening the smooth wooden front door. He walked over to the garbage disposable chute and stood for a second.
The panel beeped as he pressed its button. As it opened, Shizuo stared down the bottomless darkness and threw the bag in. A few seconds passed before he heard a thud. Shizuo closed the chute up and rubbed his hands together as he walked back to his apartment.
As he locked the doors to his apartment, he had a strange thought. He unhurriedly walked over to the bathroom. The white ceramic sparkled as he turned on the light, inviting him to come in.
He hesitantly walked over to the porcelain bathtub and stood thinking. "Why not take a bath instead today." He paused for a second, but shook his head and timidly reached for the tap.
A stream of water gushed as he as he turned the knob. He steadily undressed and stood by the sink as he waited for the porcelain tub to fill up with hot water. The mirror in front of the sink stood tall, with his reflection in the center. He stared at his own reflection longer than usual.
His hands cautiously reached out to his reflection, and his reflection mirrored his action. But when his hands grazed the mirror, he shook his head. "What the hell am I doing," a gentle smile formed on his face as he locked eyes with his reflection.
When he slightly moved his feet, he felt a wet sensation, snapping him back to reality. He stopped the flowing water and let out a sigh. He submerged his body in the warm water and leaned back in the tub. He reluctantly closed his eyes and sighed again.
"Why did I want to take a bath again… It's such a hassle… It's just easier to take a shower," he thought.
"Then again… why not… it wouldn't hurt once in a while…" he said to himself. As he finally got out of the bathtub, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, taking another one to dry his body.
He walked over to his bedroom, maneuvering over the pile of clothes begging to be washed. When he pulled the door for his closet open, an old, wrinkled shirt fell out. He picked it up and gently held it up. He read the print with a muted voice. "I love my son." His face lit up as he flashed a warm smile. "This was mom's… wasn't it?" he whispered. "Just for today," he thought as he hastily flipped it over and put it on.