bubblesthemonsterartist:

Seven Nights, Night 7 (Part I)

Chizuru smoothes her hand down the length of the desk, lifts it, and inspects her palm for flecks of dirt, of dust, of… anything. It’s not dirty, a whole weeks worth of effort spent removing every last speck from every single last surface of this room, even the tatami mats until the replacements can be ordered, and yet- Stillness does not suit her, not ever, especially not now, with the way that her body thrums with- with awareness. The storm may have cut through the humidity, leaving behind cooler days, but the soft worn cotton of her yukata drags across newly sensitive skin, clinging where one may grab, dragging where one may touch. When she allows herself a moment without a task in hand, breath tickles the shell of her ear, thin and labored, the incessant drip of condensation echoing off the walls, and soft hair brushes the inside of her thighs–

Futons! She must- she must straighten the futons! And yet they mock her from their corner of the room, crisply folded squares piled perfectly atop of each other with nary a wrinkle to smooth.

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