International Issues

| Chapter One |

DAINARA ARMETTE

10 years after the incident.

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"If I have to write ONE more goddamn paper I'm going to throw myself into traffic." I spat out as I sat behind a mahogany-colored desk, clearly annoyed. My outburst caught the attention of a few people, and they turned their heads to face me. I glared at them, and proceeded to stand up out of my chair and storm out of the office.

My boss, Hanami, who may I add, is a very pretty and smart woman, chased after me, quite confused. "Dainara, what's wrong? You can't just storm out of the office like that." I stopped walking and whirled around to face her. "I don't give two SHITS, Hanami. I'm tired, and I'm going home." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Fine. I'll let you off the hook. Now go before you get me fired." I wrapped my arms around her, giving her a quick hug before letting go and running out of the building.

-

I pulled up to the fairly-nice apartment where I was staying and parked my Sedan in a secluded spot in the large parking lot, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Ever since the "accident", I've always had the feeling that somebody was watching me. It was really fucking creepy. I shook away the dark thought and walked into the main building.

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I climbed up the stairs, wheezing with every breath. "It's a great day to be an asthmatic-" I mumbled, then hacked out a cough. Some days I really want to carve my lungs and throw them into a garbage disposal, especially because the elevator was under maintenance. I finally made it up to the top of the stairs and leaned against the wall for a minute or two, trying to catch my breath. I really fucking hate stairs.

I unlocked the door to my apartment room and looked at my watch. It was about 3:30 PM in CET (Central European Time), which meant Boketto, my little sister, would be finishing up school right about now. I stepped into my room and changed into a hoodie and some sweatpants. I ran my hands through my hair and stared out of my window, admiring the sight in front me. Although Tokyo could never compare to my home-country, France, it sure was a beautiful city.

About 15 minutes had gone by, and I was sitting at the dining table eating a bowl of spaghetti I had quickly prepared when I heard a knock on the door. I frantically wiped the marinara sauce off my face before getting up to open the door. When I opened the door, a young girl, about 11 years of age, stared up at me, carrying a backpack on her shoulders. I smiled at her and ushered her inside, for this girl was my younger sister, Boketto.

"I made spaghetti." I said as I took the backpack off of Boketto and hung it on a hook that was attached to the wall. "Thanks sis, I'm starving!" She exclaimed as she sat down at the long table and began to eat out of my bowl. I gasped and stared at her. Oh no, she was NOT eating my food. I walked over to her, picking her up and placing her down into the seat next to me. "You little thief-" She giggled as I smiled and prepared her a bowl as well. "Eat up, sœur (sister), I'm going to bed. Also, do your homework or I'll shank you."

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559 words - Hope you enjoyed!

- rxvennn