---
Saturday afternoon in Apartment 203 was quiet.
Too quiet.
Sunlight spilled through the small living room window, casting slanted beams across the slightly faded tatami mats.
Against the wall, an old television was turned on.
The volume was low.
+--
A slice-of-life anime was playing.
On the screen, a little girl in a red apron stood in a kitchen, rolling an omelet.
"Papa is going to love this," the character on TV said cheerfully.
In front of the television, Yuna sat cross-legged with her back straight.
Her hands rested neatly on her knees.
She didn't blink.
Behind her, I sat leaning against the wall.
Plain black t-shirt.
Gray sweatpants.
---
On the floor in front of me was a coil of a five-meter extension cord.
Some parts of its insulation were torn.
I slowly twisted the end of the wire, soldering the broken parts together.
A thin trail of smoke rose from the tip of the soldering iron.
The faint smell of hot plastic filled the room.
---
