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Summary
The bell rung above him, the last time for a long time—
"Huh... Kid, wait!" Sojiro held up a plain envelope from his stack. "This one's addressed to you." He flipped it around, squinting. "No return address, though."
He took the offered envelope, looking it over.
The handwriting…
Akira viciously smothered the hope, because it was impossible. No matter how similar it looked to case notes and essays seen in brief, upside-down flashes across the counter before his attention was drawn away by gloved hands wrapping around a coffee mug and the glint of wine eyes.
His heart beat a staccato rhythm against his chest despite himself, uncaring of how devastating this would be if he was wrong.
He slid his finger beneath the envelope's lip, gently tearing it open. Inside was a small piece of paper. It held one sentence, scrawled in blue ink.
'Hold onto my glove.'Series
- Part 3 of The Inherent Intimacy of Sleep