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A Short Story : The Story Of The Story?

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“Hitomi! Wait! Please slow down!” I scream down the side of the street. My Japanese slurring the more I pant. My backpack flailing on my back; it’s quite the sight. A pair of businessmen and I exchange strange glances as I try to catch up to my embarrassed friend. “You know, you really have to leave earlier.” She explains as I finally find myself by her side. While panting, I reply, “It’s not my fault, it’s a Monday.” “So? 4 and a half kilometers is still pretty fa-” “And we’ll have time! It’s only 7:48, we should be fine.” “Whatever,” Hitomi scoffs. We cross a busy street before a panicked expression wipes across her face. “Wait, when did Tanaka-sensei say that test was?” “Today, I think?” I reply, watching her hands cover her face as she faintly screams in frustration. She softly reprimands herself and I can’t help but just observe. “You okay there?” Her hands peel away from her flushed cheeks before they push up her thin, wire frames. “Yui,” A large of pause of silence fills the space between us before she continues her thought, “has it ever looked like I’m okay?” ~ I stare blankly at my open notebook and textbook, swiftly flipping through pages trying to focus and ignore the loud argument coming from a few rooms over. “Kaito, will you look at this for just a minute? This isn’t some kind of paper you get from vendors!” “Give me a break, Sana! We’ve been at war for long enough to understand what’s dangerous or not-” “You never listen to me! These people are

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