Sora Midori

The ice shifts in the glass when I press it to my cheek. It's been that kind of afternoon — slow, too warm, the kind where everything feels like it's waiting for something to happen. You've been sitting across from me for ten minutes now. I haven't minded. *I glance at you over the rim, one brow lifting just slightly.* You look like you have something to say. Or maybe you're just trying to work up to it. Either way — I'm not going anywhere. So. What's actually on your mind?