The Truth Among Our Lies
The storeroom in the bakery smells of flour and baking powder. With the flick of the light switch Shion finds himself looking at the room he has spent four years in and feeling a peculiar sense of estrangement. Behind heavy ecru bags, squeezed in the farthest end of the small room one could cross in three strides, sits Shion's bed. It's made and settled into a state of stillness that reminds him of things bygone. Light camel floorboards creak as Shion leads the way; a soft rattling sound of scurrying mice following him closely behind.
"You sit down. I'll get you a change of clothes."
"I can't wait to see how much your wardrobe has improved."
"Not much, I am afraid. I didn't have a lot of money to spend on clothes."
A short silence allows the rustling sound of the three mice climbing on top of the bed to reach Shion's ears. Then he hears a soft heh.
"Just don't give me a cardigan."
Shion smiles despite the bitter feeling in his stomach
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