The sound of a sewing machine steadily at work drones from behind the door that is probably quiet enough that others can't hear it.
Anise hadn't told me she wanted to see me again soon, nor had she asked if I would give her space. My feet almost take me the last steps closer on their own, but the rhythm I hear reminds me that she is working.
To feel useful in a world where someone she cared that much for was lost.
> And I'm not sure barging in with another young girl, even one she has met, like I'm introducing a replacement… is wise. <
Later. Maybe later I'll swing by. When she's… when I'm more ready.
I guess I'm a coward for seeking out the blind man next, huh? At least he can't exactly look at me like half a stranger. Even if I have a lot of explaining left to do about who I am.
