---
"Pfft—"
The small sound escaped from behind Yuna's hands.
She quickly clamped her hands tighter over her mouth.
Her shoulders trembled slightly.
Her eyes were still fixed on the contents of the bento, which hadn't shifted shape in the slightest.
I put the box back inside her blue bag.
Click.
Pulled the zipper.
Zzzip.
---
"The structure remains stable," I said.
Yuna gave a quick nod.
Still holding back the rest of her laughter.
In front of us, the boy was still crying on the asphalt.
His mother was trying to salvage the remains of the food, now mixed with street dust.
The octopus sausages that had stood so cutely before now looked like casualties of a minor traffic accident.
A few other parents started to stare.
Their gazes shifted back and forth between:
the crying boy,
the ruined bento on the ground,
and Yuna's cheap blue bag.
---
I stood up.
Brushed a little dust off the knees of my trousers.
The woman finally stood up as well.
