(Arata)
Karsten lingered; flickers of some distant emotions danced across his face, which I had no interest in deciphering.
I bunched my lips and elegantly placed my hands on my small desk, wondering if he needed something more or if he had just come to gloat about my suffering.
I watched him with a subtle detachment, blinking at appropriate times so he wouldn't think I was staring.
"Good," mumbling the one-syllable word as if his mouth was going to incessantly pain if he spoke more to me, he turned on his heels and walked away.
My deceitful eyes watched him even though I had no business to.
Both of us had chosen to wear the colour of mourning. Well, I was in the process of self-healing after getting my heart squashed. He, on the other hand, was always in a perpetual state of mourning for being a cold jerk.
He whispered something inaudible in Chan's ear, making the latter subtly nod.
Karsten exited through the door, and it closed behind him.
