1.2
The sun rose as usual the next morning, bringing with it a thick dew that soaked the narrow strips of brilliantly green grass that ran between houses.
People migrated out of their homes and towards their destinations for the day, and a girl who lived alone in the back of a small restaurant opened her eyes far earlier than she usually did.
Yumi sat up in bed and sighed.
She lightly set her feet down onto the cold, wooden floor and walked out the door to find the restaurant's bathroom. When she saw her reflection in the mirror, she realized that she'd never cleaned the makeup from her face.
Once dressed, she made a beeline out of the restaurant, leaving the door far behind her.
Upon reaching the street, she turned on her heel and stomped straight down the sidewalk until arriving at the edge of the city, not thinking a single thought.
From there, she turned again to follow the perimeter road, never stopping or looking anywhere but straight ahead.
Minutes, then hours passed; she'd circled the entire city more than once.
She broke into a run, chasing after some invisible entity in the far distance. Fiercely straining forward, she kept her eyes focused, never faltering in stride.
For mile after mile, she ran, and her heart ached not from fatigue, but instead from a stinging desire.
Eventually, the sun, which had been shining brightly throughout the entire morning, disappeared behind a dense cover of cloud and the city fell under heavy shadow.
In response, Yumi's stride slowed to a stop, and she plopped herself down on the still-damp grass of someone's yard.
Having finally returned to reality, she wiped the sweat out of her eyes and took deep breaths, reoxygenating her tired limbs.
It was good to feel tired. She was proud of herself–proud of her resolve.
When the clouds moved on and permitted the sun to shine once again, Yumi looked up and realized how high it had climbed into the sky.
I should go.
She stood up and carved a direct path back into the center of the city, not caring whose property she trespassed on or whose perfectly manicured lawn was being crushed beneath the soles of her shoes.
When she pushed the restaurant's heavy door open, she was greeted with the door chime's ring and Mrs. Bennett's cry of relief.
"Oh, thank goodness!" the woman exclaimed, rushing over to Yumi's side and setting a caring hand on the moist skin of her arm. "We were so worried about you!"
When she noticed the sweat running down Yumi's face, she inhaled sharply and asked, "Are you okay, Yumi?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Yumi replied, brushing her off with a slight smile. "It's almost time to open, right? I'll go get my stuff on."
"Are you sure you're alright, Yumi?" Mrs. Bennett questioned again, brow furrowed in concern.
"I'm okay," Yumi assured her. "I was just doing some exercise."
"Oh!" Mrs. Bennett exclaimed in relief.
"Well, if that's all, then thank goodness! But it's unusual," the woman continued, now back to her usual warm tone. "You're not much of a morning person, are you?"
Yumi smiled. "I felt inspired today."
With that, Yumi got into her work clothes, and Mrs. Bennett turned the "Closed" sign to "Open."
Yumi worked as the sole waitress in this restaurant, which was run by Mrs. Bennett and her husband, who were both in their early sixties. When Yumi first came to work with them and mentioned that she was hoping to move out of her parent's house and live on her own, they'd kindly offered her the small, unused storage room in the back of the restaurant.
The first few hours of the day passed in typical fashion. The restaurant was always somewhat busy, so Yumi never had a chance to stop moving. As always, she dutifully took good care of the customers, but time seemed to drag on at an unnaturally slow rate.
She found herself constantly glancing at the clock on the wall, and her patience waned far more quickly than it ever had done. Something deep within her–her very spirit, even–felt agitated, and she jumped a little at every sound of forks clanking against plates and the bright bell that rang as each new customer opened the door.
At 4:00, the restaurant closed, and they began preparations for their 5:00 reopening for dinner.
Yumi sighed shakily when the final customer walked out the door, and she promptly retreated to her dimly lit room before sitting on the edge of her bed with her forehead resting in her hands.
There she sat, and there she intended to stay.
A soft knock on the door.
She heard Mrs. Bennett's voice whisper her name.
Huh? Yumi thought, lifting her head out of her hands.
She stood up cautiously and walked to the door through thick air.
When she pushed it open, she was met with Mrs. Bennett's face, but it wasn't its usual flushed, pink color.
The woman's face was chalk-white.
"Yumi," Mrs. Bennett whispered shakily. "Someone's here. They have… a gun."
Yumi instinctively looked over Mrs. Bennett's shoulder, almost expecting to see a rifle pointed at the old woman's head.
"You should break the window, Yumi, and get out while you still can."
There was only one door in the building: the front entrance.
"What are they doing?" Yumi asked after a moment of deadly silence.
"They were just… sitting there. At one of the tables." Mrs. Bennett's voice trembled. "I walked out into the dining room and they were… right there in front of me. They had a backpack… with a gun strapped to it."
Yumi stepped past Mrs. Bennett and out of her room.
"Yumi!" Mrs. Bennett exclaimed hoarsely.
"They must be hungry," Yumi said steadily. "I'll go check on them."
Mrs. Bennett tried to grab Yumi's wrist, but the girl slipped away from her and crossed the kitchen in a few long, powerful strides.
"Yumi?" Mr. Bennett, who was holding an iron pot as he crouched behind a refrigerator, mumbled in disbelief.
Yumi came to the double doors and pushed them open without a moment's hesitation.
She stepped forward to the gray, hooded figure, who was sitting at one of the booth tables, and cheerfully greeted, "Hello! How can I help you today?"
The hooded head was bowed downward, and even after a few seconds had passed, the mysterious person showed no signs of a response.
Yumi stood with a bright smile on her face, waiting patiently, but when it became clear that her greeting would be ignored, she dropped her gaze to the backpack and gun that sat on the floor beneath her.
Slowly, she lifted her foot off the ground and pushed the bag to the other side of the booth.
With the danger of the gun eliminated, Yumi jumped into the booth's opposite bench and tried to peer under the gray hood of the person facing her.
Her heart raced with excitement.
Something told her that this meeting was fated to happen. That this was the unknown phenomenon she'd subconsciously been waiting for.