Kaori Saejima -2021- -

She did not sit. Not immediately. She stood there, dripping rainwater onto the marble floor, her useless left hand hanging, her right hand trembling at her side. The board waited. The ghost waited.

The Caretaker. She had invented that name. She had never spoken it aloud. Not to her therapists, not to the one ex-boyfriend who stayed long enough to learn her tics, not to the mirror on the nights she wept without sound. Kaori Saejima -2021-

She walked deeper. The air tasted of wet plaster and old secrets. She did not sit

She pulled out the chair.

The wood groaned.