Yuna left for work a little after nine, her brown leather satchel slung over one shoulder, and her long brown hair pinned up in her usual elegant twist she wore only for lectures.
Before leaving, she stopped at the door and kissed me slowly, her fingers brushing the back of my neck.
“Don’t forget the strawberries,” she whispered hotly against my lips. “The sweet ones from the stall near the station. And try not to let Mina’s nonsense get into your head.”
“I won’t,” I promised, even though we both knew I probably would. She smiled, that soft, knowing smile that always made me feel all too bare in a good way, and then she was gone.
The apartment was quieter without her presence, but did not feel empty. I quietly finished breakfast, washed the dishes, and spent a few hours at my desk by
