A lot had changed in ten years. But no summer had managed to thaw Hannya's heart.
She was sitting on her small bed. Her workday was over, and now she could finally enjoy a bit of peace in her dark room. The books glimmered under the moonlight, giving the place the look of an abandoned house; dirty dishes piled up on her desk, and a few skincare creams sat on her pillow beside the shirt she used to wipe off her makeup. The room looked deserted. But she didn't care. It worked for her.
The years of friendship and hope were gone, leaving behind only the exhaustion of adulthood and broken dreams. She had lost friends and support along the way, but she had finally managed to reach a new place—with the fragile hope of starting her story again from scratch.
Her hair had grown nearly half a meter. She no longer wore colorful outfits or braces. A pair of glasses framed her large eyes.
In the past, bad luck and loneliness seemed to laugh at her, in a way that taught her not to expect anything, so she wouldn't be disappointed. But this time, she had made it—though not without sacrifice. It almost felt like an escape.
After years of failing as an artist, she found a job as a nanny in the country she had always dreamed of living in, near the borders of a seaside city.
However, as with all good things, there were downsides. She soon discovered that the children she cared for were little devils—screaming, running, and making a mess wherever they went. That only confirmed what she already suspected: she wasn't good with kids.
So she started looking for work elsewhere.
And now, there she was—surrounded by records and vinyls inherited (or rather, stolen the day she fled her country) from her parents, along with family photographs in an Art Nouveau album she had always loved (some with the faces of her high school friends, John and Sofi, covered by crooked stickers), two art school projects that had been lucky enough not to end up in the trash like the rest, second-hand clothes, and toys from her childhood.
Amid the chaos of empty cans, she was writing a résumé, trying to embellish the little work experience she had.
At last, life smiled at her: she had managed to schedule an interview for the next day.
She closed her laptop and lay down on the small bed, waiting for sleep to come—woven between memories and thoughts from a past that still hurt too much to remember.