Umi closed his eyes and imagined in the thick, dreaming aroma of Shiori’s room both of them were in their childhood again. He imagined he didn’t have to worry about who didn’t (or did) want touching him. He imagined someone would wake him, in the morning, and tell him what he should do. He imagined they would tell him how to be happy.
James dreamed that a man with a towering shadow drove him into an empty black corner, and every time James tried to hit him an invisible, impossible force deflected him. The man never stopped smiling.