suetyng
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Summary
Matsuda has too much time on his hands, so much that it seems to stretch endlessly before him. The midafternoon light streams through a crack in the office-issued blinds he never manages to close properly, even months after his return to the NPA. It glares off of his computer screen, rendering the file he is supposed to be combing through for evidence illegible. Not that it matters—he stopped pretending to be interested in the new case days ago.
Matsuda’s attention is instead occupied by the clock on the opposite wall. His eyes trace the second hand as he finds himself counting to forty, not for the first time. It’s a habit he can’t quite bring himself to shake.
Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…
Or: Matsuda grieves.
Bookmarked by suetyng
23 Jun 2024