Wednesday morning arrived like a typical second-week morning when you've begun to grasp the rhythm of a new place: less surprising and more functional.
Mike was ready by 7:40 and, for the first time since Haruka's arrival, realized he hadn't heard her knock at 7:45, 7:50, or at any time close to either.
He stood at his door for a moment. Then he knocked on unit five.
There was a longer pause than usual before the door opened.
Haruka stood in the doorway looking like someone who had attempted sleep and been only partly successful. The flatness around her eyes and the slightly disheveled appearance of her hair, which was normally neat even at this hour, revealed everything before she spoke.
She looked at him.
He looked at her.
"Good morning," Mike said.
"Good morning..." Haruka said, in a tone that was technically correct and carrying several additional layers of meaning that she was apparently deciding how to handle.
She went to get her bag. Mike waited in the doorway.
