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**Beginning: "Faced With What Was Lost, By Someone, For Someone Else"**

What might a corpse be thinking?

As I gazed upon a corpse that looked like it might be up for a chat, that question popped into my head.

The room, enveloped in a stinging odor that made my nose itch and a cold so biting that dripping blood seemed likely to freeze instantly, was certainly not an environment I'd call ideal for sleeping. I wonder if it doesn't feel any dissatisfaction, even if it can't complain.

My personal take? I'd pass on this state, even after death or free of charge. Maybe *it* thinks, 'I still prefer *his* arms. I want *him* to hold me, even if my flesh rots.' Though if *I* were in the opposite position, I'd rather not.

The corpse, sitting so properly with its knees drawn up that it wouldn't look out of place in gym clothes, was a girl whose age could likely be counted on the fingers of her hands and feet. Even holding a hand before its face, no breath touched it, nor did the eyes flicker. Her neck... I started to reach for it, but pulled my hand back. I worried leaving fingerprints might cause trouble later. I'd only meant to check for a pulse, just in case.

In any case, it was certain: there was a plain, unadorned corpse right in front of me.

So, what to do...

A corpse is a corpse because it was killed. Be it by illness, by oneself, or by time, *something* dealt the final blow.

Among those, the biggest problem is the *manufacture* of corpses by others. If witnessed, civilians are obligated to report it to the esteemed members of the police, but... however... still... Hmmm.

Pressing my temples, I sighed, groaned, did a few knee bends to distract myself from the cold, and racked my brain.

...Ah, inspiration struck.

I clapped my hands together softly, careful not to break the silence.

Let's pretend I never saw it.

A brain that decides to avoid trouble as much as possible—isn't that well within the bounds of a normal person? Or so I tell myself. Mostly to justify my own actions.

Besides, I have this and that going on which would be awkward if I were questioned, so let's just make a stylish retreat and say this never happened. *Click.*

And so, with a yawn mixed into my prayers for some good soul to discover this someday, bye-cha.

Time to head hooome, head home... I turned my back on the dead girl's resting place.

Since I'm alive, sleeping in a bed is what's appropriate for me.

...But.

The moon is beautiful tonight... Maybe I could even administer some punishment in her stead, as a sort of viewing fee... or something like that.

---

**Chapter 1: The Continuing End**

My daddy and mommy both worked, so they always looked busy.
So, the boy next door always came to pick me up from nursery school.
The boy would hold my hand. He was like a big brother.
"Can I go to Mii-kun's room until Mommy comes home?"
I call the boy Mii-kun.
Everyone else calls him Michizane-kun, so it's special, just for me.
"Okay. But make sure you let your mom know first."
Mii-kun's big eyes turned into lines as he smiled at me.

Mii-kun's face, the one I love.
I also love it when he pets my head afterwards.
Mii-kun is super kind, and I love him lots.
...And yet.

B
The skin came off.

Misono Mayu, her head wrapped in bandages, had just finished peeling an apple beside the bed where I lay in the hospital room. I've extracted just that one point from the current situation, but there's no particular meaning to it. As an aside, this apple wasn't a get-well gift; Mayu bought it herself, paying out of her own pocket. Not that there weren't any apples among the typical get-well gifts, mind you. But, oh well.

Mayu dropped the single, connected strip of red skin onto a flat plate and switched her grip on the knife, holding it like a carving tool. Then, she asked in a subdued voice, "What shape should I make?" regarding the carving she was about to perform. I stopped my brain from accumulating useless experience and respected the autonomy of my lips.

"An apple reflected in a mirror."

".?" Maa-chan tilted her head. My brain, unable to watch any longer, issued an instruction.

"A frilled lizard."

"No way. I hate creatures other than Mii-kun."

My next answer, "Then, a mirror that reflects an apple," which would have just filled Maa-chan's head with question marks again, was withdrawn before it left my throat.

"I'll leave it up to you, Maa-chan."

Receiving the standard phrase I always used before eating an apple during my hospital stay, Mayu began her work. The apple was carved with effortless movements, as if her power extended directly from her heart. The fact that she was skilled in handling blades seemed a more fitting description of Mayu's actions than simply saying she had nimble fingers.

While waiting for the completion of her apple-based creation, I directed my gaze not at Mayu's hands, but at her head. I noticed her bandages were fresh, likely changed this morning.

A little less than one-twelfth of a year had passed since my life-or-death battle with my fated rival. Setting aside the slight exaggeration, it was partly my own fault—or rather, since I picked the fight, perhaps saying 'partly' is rude to Sugawara. In any case, I'd been seriously injured by this Sugawara and was now indulging in a hospital life so boring it threatened to become depressing (another aside: even now, that guy shows no signs of recovering his childhood memories).

The season had arrived where the outside air held its breath, while conversely, our own breath turned white, asserting its presence. The cast on my left arm had been removed, and I was permitted to move around on crutches. The days of being bedridden and receiving Mayu's care were over. The mealtime scenes where she'd say "Open wide, say ahh," and I'd open my mouth were gone. Even though I'm right-handed, mind you.

End of digression. Outside, the scenery had turned to winter, with bare trees standing haphazardly. For someone stuck in the hospital, that was about the only change in my living environment. Other than that, there was the slight shuffling of roommates and the occasional visitor who would ripple the surface of my peaceful, decadent existence. ...... Ah, speaking of visitors.

Two weeks ago, Mayu's grandparents came to visit. Mayu's grandfather looked like a well-dressed gentleman. He was a natural, poised old man, whose movements were imbued with such skill and dignity it was as if his nickname had been 'Gramps' since high school. Mayu's grandmother possessed skin and hair that showed no signs of wear, as if since her schoolgirl days... et cetera, et cetera.

Since I'd never met them, my eyes darted about at first, wondering who they were. It clicked when Mayu's grandfather introduced himself as Misono.

"'I've heard so much about you.' 'Have you heard from Mayu?' 'No, not once.' 'I thought not.' The conversation flowed smoothly, as if following a preordained script. After that, we exchanged a few words of social pleasantry about the state of my injuries, and to conclude, Mayu's grandfather asked a single question that bordered on an interrogation: 'What do you intend to do about Mayu going forward?' I thought maybe this was my cue for the classic 'Please give me your daughter's hand in marriage!' line, but the atmosphere strongly suggested he wasn't the type to appreciate jokes, so I settled for a sanitized, obligatory answer: 'I wish to be her support as much as possible.' After that, Mayu's grandfather asked just one more question. Then, about five minutes later, the two of them left the room. Mayu's grandmother remained silent throughout and offered no parting nod.

Next, Koibi-sensei appeared with a sullen look on her face, struck me seven times (a ratio of four fists to three open palms), left a complete set of an old medical manga as a souvenir, and departed. I decided to interpret this as her telling me to learn the value of life.

And then there's Misono Mayu. This girl isn't really a visitor, is she?

"Done," Mayu said, placing the knife on the sideboard and offering the plate to me.

On it sat an apple, covered in fingerprints, carved thinly around the middle to resemble stacked dumplings, placed upside down. Now it was my turn to cock my head.

"What's this? A gourd?"

"A snowman." The creator stated nonchalantly.

...Right. Well, it's not a creature, anyway. I decided to just shut up and gratefully accept it. I sank my teeth in and took a big bite.

"Is it yummy?"

"Yeah, it's the best. Maa-chan's fingerprints really tighten up the flavor, don't they?" I offered a safe, noncommittal opinion that might otherwise get me recommended for a transfer to a different hospital. Mayu's cheeks relaxed into a happy expression, so it was worth saying.

"Want some too, Maa-chan?" "Uh-huh."

Mayu took a bite out of the opposite side of the apple and began to chew. A crisp *shari-shari* sound filled the air, drawing the gazes of my roommates. Watarai-san in the next bed seemed to recoil slightly.

Strange. What we were doing was essentially the same as lovers sipping from one drink with two straws, yet something was different. Our eyes were so close, yet this felt less like a sweet moment between lovers and more like termites gnawing away at a house. *Gaji-gaji*.

And just as we were researching this groundbreaking method of eating an apple, the sound of a meal cart being pushed echoed from the hallway, drawing closer. My stomach immediately understood it was lunchtime.

The door opened, and the nurse who brought in lunch, an always high-tension woman, entered, providing everyone with vitality and a certain amount of fatigue.

"You two look less like a pair of lovebirds and more like plain idiots. Eat up!"

Though the nurse's words were laced with exasperation, her expression looked amused.

Following her instructions, I returned the apple to the plate and accepted trays for two people.

Yes, a meal was provided for Mayu as well. Of course, this wasn't Mayu's room.

But the policy here is to grant patients' requests whenever possible.

Yes, as of right now, Mayu was also hospitalized in this very building.

Brand new bandages were wrapped layer upon layer around Mayu's head. This was, of course, because she had injured herself, and naturally, she was hospitalized to recover from said injury, the result, needless to say, of self-harm.

Apparently, Mayu had hit herself on the head with a flower vase, come straight to the hospital on her own two feet, and declared, covered in blood, that she was admitting herself.

This was because I had advised her, "Stop coming to visit me every day, okay? Go to school sometimes." So, she must have mulled it over in her own way and resorted to this action. Mayu had done her best, in her own way. To say I praised her valiant effort and commended the sentiment that resonated in my chest would be, as expected, a huge lie. For the first time in a long while, I found myself engaging in some self-reflection that even a monkey might find a bit challenging.

"Mii-kun." My sleeve was tugged by Mayu, pulling my consciousness outward.

"Eat this." Mayu handed me the corn salad with a grimace. She's extremely picky.

"Leave it to me." I accepted it, gazed at the contents of the small dish for three seconds, and placed it on my tray for the time being. I'm also extremely picky.

Watarai-san, the man occupying the next bed—who looks like the sort of kindly old grandpa who might bequeath porn magazines as his legacy upon his deathbed—would gladly accept and eat it if I offered, but with the nurse here, that's not allowed. She's the type who utterly despises leftovers, like a school cafeteria lady.

So lately, I've been attempting some illegal dumping around the time the nurse finishes her rounds and leaves the room. Of course, Watarai-san, who fears the 'wastefulness ghost,' always says, "If you're throwing it out, give it here," and ends up eating it, but there's nothing I can do to stop him.

Through the open doorway, I could see two young people in suits running down the corridor. The fact that they weren't being scolded for running in a hospital hallway sparked a slight interest in their positions.

Come to think of it, the whole hospital had been noisy and unsettled since this morning. I decided to ask the nurse about it.

"It seems kind of noisy, doesn't it? Was there a major accident or something?"

"Hmm? Nah, one of the patients has been missing since yesterday morning, so we're looking for them."

"...Missing, you mean?"

"Their neurotic parents kicked up a fuss and got the police involved, so now they're dutifully showing up *here*. It's kind of getting in the way of our work, though."

Grumbling, she pushed the cart out into the hallway. Just as she was closing the door behind her, she added one last comment: "Don't leave any leftovers!"

.........A missing patient, huh.

Somehow, I get the feeling this place has become steeped in a smell that's distinctly more rank, more like raw flesh than mud... Is that just my imagination?

"Hey." Mayu tugged my sleeve insistently. When I turned around, her usual Noh mask-like face was wearing a grimace.

"What's wrong?" "I don't like that woman just now."

In a slightly hushed voice, Mayu spat out her blatant aversion.

It was a slightly different flavor of negative emotion than what she directed at Koibi-sensei; more of a visceral rejection.

"Hmm, did she do something to annoy you?"

"Not really, just because. You probably shouldn't talk to her much."

Mayu's advice, though baseless, was delivered without hesitation or doubt. I just accepted it noncommittally with an "Okay."

After that, the two chopsticks held by Mayu picked up a piece of simmered food and were directed towards my mouth.

Mayu, still wearing her formal, 'going-out' expression, commanded, "Ahhhn."

Turns out, the feeding ritual wasn't over at all.

"...No, hey, look, my hands work now..." "Open your mouth." "... ... Ahg."

In the end, I opened my mouth like an idiot.

In the end, I'm still here, just being 'Mii-kun.'

---

One patient, missing.

Initially, that incident wasn't something that should have concerned me.

What happened the next day was far more shocking.

Nagase Tooru appeared before me.

Nagase Tooru was in my grade. Contrary to the impression her name might give, she was a high school girl. We were in the same class during our first year, and for a short time, we'd been one of those silly couples. My ex-girlfriend.

Early afternoon. With Mayu engrossed in her nap beside me, I was busy learning about the value of medicine and royalties via manga when I recognized the visitor—someone I hadn't had any contact with for over a year—and the blood drained from my face.

Nagase, in her school uniform, closed the distance with unhurried steps. My roommates, the high school kid and the middle-aged man, followed her with their eyes. "Another girl visiting him?" someone's grumble reached my ears. Incidentally, I'm in a four-person room, the occupants being myself, Watarai-san, a frivolous-looking pimple-face—I mean, high school student—and a taciturn middle-aged man.

Nagase stood stock-still directly in front of me and offered a smile slightly different from the one I remembered from a year ago.

"Yo-ssu."

A vague smile, as if unsure of the distance between us.

My mental state was hardly calm enough for detached analysis like 'My eyes perceived it as...'. The pressure constricting my insides due to tension spread the taste of stomach acid in my mouth. Her unchanged way of speaking only spurred it on.

Why? The single word swam upstream against the river of my thoughts. I could understand if she were here to visit her sister, but why had she come to *me*? What the hell were the teachers at her school teaching?

"...Nagase-san?" "-ssu."

"Tooru-san?" "Not anymore-ssu."

Nagase's lips formed the word 'Promise.' Ahh, right, right.

"You look pale-ssu."

"M-My condition took a sudden turn for the worse!"

Nagase wiped her palms on her skirt and moved, stumbling slightly, to the side of my bed. There, she seemed to notice Mayu, who was indulging in a deep sleep using my arm as a hug pillow. The speed at which Nagase blinked increased.

Taking the opportunity, I also broke out in a cold sweat down my spine. If Mayu were to awaken right now, the odds were high that she would snuff out my life more easily than crushing a roadside weed.

"Let's go outside." I proposed, starting preparations without waiting for Nagase's opinion.

I tossed aside the manga, carefully peeled Mayu's limbs off me, and grabbed my crutches. I slipped an oversized slipper onto just my left foot, threw on the jacket that served as flimsy protection against the cold, and exited the room with the determination of a race walker. Glancing back from the entrance, I saw Watarai-san, whose best friend was his futon, staring blankly after us, a look of dull astonishment on his face. He seemed intimidated by my relationships with women. Just kidding, though. Alright, I was starting to regain my composure.

Nagase showed no sign of rushing, yet she easily caught up to my side.

"You're being hasty-ssu."

Observing my agitated state objectively seemed to have calmed her down, conversely. Her voice even held a hint of composure.

"Whose fault do you think that is?"

"I'd rather not think it's my own fault-ssu."

She shot back a composed retort. I gave her a sideways glance, my lips remaining sealed.

"But, since we were coming outside, I was kinda hoping you might lend me a jacket or something-ssu."

Nagase's bright disappointment, laced with a hint of venom.

My mind, blood, and thoughts hadn't circulated that far. Neither had my emotions, for that matter.

"Oh? You look uncomfortable. Sorry to make you worry when I only came by to see how you were doing-ssu."

Yeah, right. Internally, I brewed a teaspoonful of venom, thinking: *Besides, if you came straight here after your pure and proper day at school, shouldn't you have brought your own commuting coat?*

At the stairs at the end of the hallway, I debated whether to go up or down, concluded it didn't make much difference, and decided to head for the roof. Whether out of concern or pity seeing me struggle with my crutches on each step, Nagase kindly offered, "Want some help-ssu?" but I politely declined. However, Nagase did open the door to the roof.

This was my second time going out onto the roof during my hospital stay. That place, the closest point to outer space within the hospital grounds, featured a faded yellow-green bench and a large amount of laundry being exposed to the cold wind. To this scene, two more individuals being exposed were added. Despite the weather being a combination of a cloudless blue sky and bright sun, a shivering chill seemed to pour down. Naturally, there was no one else around besides us. So perhaps this was just right.

"S-So cold-ssu..." Nagase complained, sniffling. She rubbed her thighs together beneath her skirt.

"I request the tea room-ssu. I'll even settle for just water-ssu."

"No way. It'd be embarrassing if your friends spread rumors."

"Are you some kinda middle schooler just entering puberty-ssu...?"

Nagase gave up, half in exasperation, and sat down on the bench adjacent to me. The bench groaned dramatically under our combined weight. The fact that the groan seemed louder when Nagase's butt landed must have been my imagination.

I took a deep, deep breath. I filled my lungs with air that felt like it contained particles of ice and tried to exhale the pus-like worries that had accumulated inside my body. After repeating this several times, my limbs, which had been slightly tense, returned to a natural state.

Then, timing it with my regained composure, Nagase spoke.

"Glad to see Tooru's doing okay-ssu."

Nagase Tooru calls *me* 'Tooru.' Incidentally, her younger sister, Nagase Itsuki, also imitates her older sister and calls me 'Tooru.' Ever since we played that game where we swapped names, it seems they're still keeping it up.

XX and Tooru. Our mutually unfitting names became the catalyst for us breaking the ice.

"Did you hear from Itsuki?"

"Uh-huh," Nagase nodded.

Nagase's younger sister, Nagase Itsuki (this one likes her own name, by the way), is a regular at this hospital. Not that she's sickly. She learns, studies, and plays various sports, karate, and the like, and as a result, she racks up a lot of fractures and sprains. She's currently hospitalized to rest her left arm. Since we know each other, we've run into each other several times since I was admitted. She mentioned she'll be in the fifth grade next year, which means she's the same age as Kouta-kun. I wonder if those kids are doing okay at school.

"So, like, how'd you get injured-ssu?"

Nagase asked, her eyes following the sheets and towels fluttering in the wind. "I tried to break a window at school barehanded at night and failed. My foot got injured stepping on a shard." "Lame."

Her tone, completely devoid of belief, was coated in curtness.

A headwind blew, carrying the faint scent of Nagase's cologne to tickle my nostrils.

"So, what business do you have?"

My chapped lips and tight throat hindered my pronunciation. I wonder if she heard me over the sound of the wind.

"Business? I just came to visit-ssu."

Nagase replied simply, without any pressure or hesitation.

"Now?"

"Now? Well, true, Tooru was admitted a month ago-ssu, so maybe I am a bit late-ssu."

"No, not like that... Uh, look, I mean, considering our relationship."

Was I the only one feeling the awkwardness clinging to the edge of my heart?

"About a year." "One year, one month, and twelve days." My vague estimate was met with Nagase's correction, so strict and precise it hinted at abnormality.

"...It's been about that long, hasn't it? We haven't emailed or called. Our connection, in all its forms, had already disappeared. Then you just pop up out of nowhere, so of course I'm suspicious."

"Hmm, did you want me to call-ssu?" Nagase watched my expression, looking somehow amused. I didn't hesitate.

"Back when I liked Nagase, maybe I did."

If she called *now*, the point of Mayu's fruit knife would likely shift from the apple to me. Then this injury of mine would lose all meaning, I'd lose face before the mother of the sister who extended a hand of salvation, and as for the meaning or fate or inevitable coincidence of being 'Mii-kun'... well, I was spreading the wrapping cloth way too wide and couldn't possibly fold it up neatly, so I concluded with, "Just kidding, though."

The brightness washed away from Nagase's expression. *Did I just step on a relationship 'landmine'?* I braced myself, my heart fearing an explosion.

But she only muttered quietly, in a tone distinct from a monologue, "Is everything in the past tense?" Superficially, at least, the mine didn't go off.

"But did we ever properly, like, break up-ssu?"

Leaning forward, Nagase's expression flipped from gloomy to cheerful in an instant. Her mischievous smile drew closer, along with her scent, and my heart felt a slight flutter of disturbance.

"I have no memory of *not* doing so."

"Still talking in circles as usual-ssu."

"...Talking about this now... it's too late."

"I know." Nagase leaned back. Then she shivered once from the cold.

"I request we return indoors-ssu."

"Let's do that." Why did we have to be out here under this cold sky, anyway? Why didn't we just use a visitor's room?

Seeking relief from this complaint, on which we both agreed, we fled the rooftop.

Come to think of it, the roof. I was on the roof with a young woman.

"Oh? Your face went pale again. Playing traffic light-ssu?"

"Just had a flashback to when I turned into a chicken."

"Haaah... Tooru sure is a difficult man-ssu."

On the stair landing, Nagase let out a dismissive comment.

"So, still wanna talk about breaking up-ssu?"

"No. Didn't I say I know?"

Despite her words, her tone and the twist of her lips insisted she wasn't honestly convinced. An irritation, the kind that made her look like she might kick my crutches away for fun at any moment, showed itself plainly.

When we safely reached the bottom of the stairs, my shoulders relaxed in relief.

Nagase took a step forward from the awkward distance between us.

"You heading back?"

"Gonna go see Itsuki too-ssu. She's a little anxious right now-ssu."

"Anxious? About what?"

"You don't know-ssu? The person in Itsuki's room went missing-ssu."

...Ah, the missing person they mentioned yesterday.

"She's used to hospitals, but she's a scaredy-cat. Still can't go to the bathroom alone at night-ssu."

"Everyone's scared of something. Even I'm terrified of debt."

"That's a very un-dreamlike fear-ssu..."

There, finally, Nagase turned a smile remarkably similar to her old one towards me.

That alone seemed to alleviate, if only slightly, the stagnant air between Nagase and me.

Nagase straightened her posture, as if formally addressing me, and faced me directly.

"If you really hate it, I won't come again-ssu. It's just on the way when I visit Itsuki anyway-ssu."

"...Well, I don't *really* hate it..."

"Then maybe I'll come again-ssu." She smiled openly. She totally didn't give me a chance to refuse just now, did she?

"Well then, say hi to Maa-chan for me-ssu."

Leaving those words behind, Nagase descended the stairs, skipping steps as she went.

I watched her go, and then it hit me.

Maa-chan?

"...Where'd she hear that name?" And what did she mean by it?

---

When I returned to the room, Mayu was gazing out the window with sleepy eyes. Watarai-san in the next bed claimed he felt unwell and was huddled under his blankets without undergoing any examination. What exactly *is* this guy hospitalized for right now?

"Uh... where'd you go?"

Her voice was slack from having just woken up. I sat down on a chair, not the bed, and offered the flimsy lie, "The bathroom."

Mayu showed no particular reaction, just mumbled some unintelligible words.

"Maa-chan should be able to leave the hospital soon."

I touched Mayu's bandages and hair. Because she complained about not being able to wash her hair and took the bandages off herself every night, I was the one re-wrapping them after her bath. My handiwork wasn't exactly beautiful enough to be designated a World Heritage site, to put it mildly.

"Not until Mii-kun gets better." "It's not impossible." "It *is* impossible."

Her cheeks puffed out in an open display of pouting. Then, this expression was further demonstrated by the act of pulling the blanket completely over her head, creating a childish cutoff.

"Maa-chan, this is my bed, you know."

Even when I shook her shoulder, Mayu ignored me.

So, purely out of curiosity, I slipped my hand under the blanket and tried tickling the sole of her foot. Mayu reacted sensitively, flailing her legs and starting to squirm. Her freshness and liveliness inspired my 'fishing spirit,' which got caught up in various other things and promptly burned itself out. If I'd let that ambition run wild, I could easily imagine myself knocking on the door of the deep-sea fishing industry, which wasn't helpful in the slightest. I'm starting to lose the ability to tell what's a lie myself.

As I continued tickling her, I reflected on Nagase.

My memories of Nagase weren't solely bitter. Not yet.

---

A few days later, Mayu's bandages were removed by the doctor.

And then, an even greater quantity of bandages covered Mayu's head.

The hospital room Mayu was using was a private one, equipped with its own bathroom and even an induction cooktop as part of the facilities. As for the price, separate from the basic hospitalization fee, the daily usage charge was a little over fifteen thousand yen—*so* reasonable, try and make me say it. A price setting designed to make people muse, "So the concept of 'rich people' really does exist." And yet, the room was actually being used, evoking a mix of exasperation and amazement at the depths of the world.

In that room, a place I myself would likely never lodge in my entire life, I was spacing out alone.

The room's interior was enveloped in warm colors, as far removed from the shallow white theme of the rest of the hospital as Monday is from Friday. The hum of the heater vibrated my eardrums, inviting sleepiness.

I sat on the edge of the bed, legs stretched out, playing with boredom. Mayu, the renter of this room, was being questioned by the police, semi-forcibly, as the victim. I was awaiting her return like a loyal dog. Just kidding, though.

This morning, Mayu's head and a flower vase had another encounter. In broad daylight, right here in this hospital room, she ended up covered in blood. This time too, she didn't faint but walked under her own power to request treatment from a doctor.

However, there was one difference from the previous time.

"This time, it seems to be a wound inflicted by someone else." That's what the doctor who explained the situation to me said.

I myself had not yet come face-to-face with Mayu since she received this new wound.

Like a loyal dog begging for food, I waited for her return.

I tapped the floor with my crutch. A dull sound echoed, but not enough to resonate through the room.

The first wound was to the top of her head, with a flowerless vase, dealt by her own hand.