fragile change | viii

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The question echoed in his head.

Why am I doing this?

He asked this when the lunchtime bell sounded.

Reluctantly, he stood up.

Why am I doing this?

He asked again as he willed his feet to move,
gripping the umbrella in one hand.

He paused to stop in front of her.


Why am I doing this?


She had been tucking away her things.
She looked up, noticing him.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

Those who passed by stopped to stare as well.


Why am I doing this?


His tongue felt dry.

He opened his mouth, forcing the next words.


"... Come with me for a moment."


Why am I doing this?


She blinked, frozen as though she could not believe what was happening.

He was the same, too.



Why am I doing this?


He waited for her to answer,
blood rushing to his ear.

Then, very, very slowly, she nodded.


"... Okay."

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