I regret it.
The freak out…or was it meltdown?.
Yeah, it doesn't matter.
What matters is that I regret it.
I regretted it as I ate dinner under the kind eyes of Mrs Shimizu, and I regret it more as I eat breakfast with Bastard, while he shamelessly stares at me from across the table.
At least the food’s good— the food’s great really. Good food makes everything bearable.
“Is your head screwed on straight Sorahiko?”.
“Yes, Sir…I’m sorry Sir”. Is that a question or an insult?. It could even be a threat, who knows?.
“Why are you apologizing for being in full control of your mental faculties?”.
“I’m sorry Sir”. Bastard has been asking me all sorts of weird questions lately. If I weren’t who I was, I’d be worried for the safety of my neck.
There’s a beat of silence, the only sounds
