The weekend, a beautiful term.
It is the final mental barrier for corporate slaves struggling to survive amidst the gears of capitalism, and the wellspring of vitality for adolescents briefly breaking free from their shackles.
As soon as the calendar turns to these two days, it means there is no need to deal with work or face the classroom.
One can guiltlessly laze in bed, enjoy the sun at seven or eight in the morning, bury one's face in the pillow, and let the wonderful leisure time flow past like melting butter.
The morning sunlight streamed through the window, shining directly onto Reina, who had wrapped herself into a ball.
Gentle footsteps sounded at the doorway.
A rustling sound came from under the covers, and the little caterpillar, who had been squinting in the sun, immediately turned around to face her mother, who had come to call her for breakfast.
"Good morning~" Reina greeted lazily, her voice still husky with sleep, the trailing end of her words drawn out long.
"Honestly, since you're awake, get up quickly. Breakfast has been ready for a while." Her mother walked to the bedside, bent down, and ruffled her daughter's messy hair.
"Anyway, there's nothing to do right now... It doesn't matter if I get up a bit later..." Feeling a bit itchy from being touched, Reina shrank further into the quilt, revealing only half her face, and muttered softly.
"Eh~ is that so?" Her mother looked with amusement at the quilt roll that had shifted into a defensive posture, and deliberately drew out her tone.
"I specially prepared grilled fish and rolled omelets for you this morning. What a pity, it seems someone doesn't really want to eat."
The little caterpillar's ears twitched.
Due to the farce last night, Reina hadn't had a proper meal since yesterday afternoon. She had originally wanted to sleep in, but because she'd been hungry for so long, her stomach had long since lost its temper. However, hearing her mother say that, those curled-up hunger pangs seemed to catch the scent of food and began to throw a tantrum in her stomach again.
"If you're very sleepy, little Reina, you don't have to force yourself." Her mother held back a laugh and continued to add fuel to the fire, "Get some rest. Dad and I will try our best to finish all that sinful food."
"No way~" Reina's voice instantly became fawning, sweet enough to squeeze out honey. Her body was just as quick; almost in the same instant, she completed the magnificent transformation from reptile to primate, spanning tens of millions of years of evolution.
The quilt was kicked aside, and Reina sat up abruptly. She wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, which was noticeably fuller than when she was younger, and pressed her little face against her abdomen, rubbing vigorously.
"Mother, you're already so plump, so let me handle these sinful foods!" She looked up with a face full of selfless dedication, righteous and stern, her eyes so clear it was as if she were truly acting on behalf of heaven.
It hardened. Her fist hardened. And when a fist hardens, naturally, someone is going to get hit.
With moderate force, her mother thumped the upturned head, the sound crisp, like knocking on a watermelon. "Hmm, it's a good head," she evaluated. "It's just that it seems a bit hollow inside."
Ignoring the embarrassing creature rolling on the bed feigning pain and acting spoiled, her mother resumed her usual gentle and elegant image and walked quickly back to the living room, preparing to serve a portion to the elder in the house.
As it turned out, before she could even pick up the bowl, Reina's energetic inquiry came from the room; it seemed she couldn't find the hoodie she usually wore at home. Regarding this, her mother, who had just seen that very garment on the bed, couldn't help but cover her forehead with one hand.
She remembered that when her daughter was little, she didn't seem this silly. How did it happen that after a few years of school, her grades got better and better, but her intelligence regressed?
With the subtle feeling of "did I raise her wrong or was she always like this," her mother gently closed Grandma's door. The lock made a "click" sound, isolating the quiet inside. She stretched.
From downstairs came the unmasked clatter of slippers, along with a garbled shout, as if her mouth was still stuffed with food: "Mom—someone is knocking at the door—"
Probably eating while walking again. How unladylike. But what can you do? After all, she's her own daughter. She couldn't just put her in a cardboard box and leave her on the side of the road for someone to adopt, like a kitten, could she? Sigh. So silly, she wondered if anyone would ever want her in the future. Her mother thought this, yet the corners of her mouth curled up involuntarily. She straightened her clothes and walked toward the entrance. Come to think of it, coming to knock at this hour... who could it be?