Through a closed door, the muffled white noise sound of a shower seeped continuously into the hallway.
Sshshshhssshshhshsh..
Shsshshshshshs..
The constant pitter-patter of the water hitting the tiled bathroom floor, never-ending.
Shshshshsshshshshh..
Shshshshshshsshhs..
The gentle splashes of a million drops, causing the glass to fog up, a light plume of steam rising up above.
Shshshshshsshhs..
Shshshshshhshshs.
Sshshshshhshshshsh..
...
..squEAK.
A faucet was turned, and the shower ceased. A rattle echoed, and out came its occupant. A girl, clad in a pink towel wrapped around her body.
Hana Sunomiya.
Her hair was damp, still very much wet and would very much take a bit to dry. Her soaked feet left visible, dampened footprints in the carpet that was laid out in front of the sink. Droplets of water, very tiny streaks of shower residue, dripped down her body, trailing and trailing along her Silk-y smooth skin, before making the plunge to the floor.
Her hand brushed along the equally smooth surface of the bathroom mirror, which had also fogged up and become blurry. With a "pat-pat-pat' motion, she grabbed a good amount of towel and gently dabbed her face with it, ridding away excess liquid that might've still remained.
She then stared at herself. The both of her hands grasped on to the edges of the even, shiny countertop, and she leaned in. Her back was sort of arched, one leg bent at its knee, and her head was pointed downward. Yet, her eyes remained straight, fixated on her reflection. Herself.
Hana stood there for a while, doing nothing but gaze upon her face. Her eyes. The stoic frown she always had on, but this time, the frown was different. It was a frown that spoke of..
..uncertainty.
One might look and guess that she was deep in thought. That wouldn't be wrong at all. Hana looked as if she were thinking, pondering, doing complex, incalculable calculations in her head.
What was she pondering? What had her like this? What could've had a girl her age standing in front of a mirror, digging deep in her own mind for moments that seemed like eternity?
None could guess. Hana was good at hiding things.
In a sudden change of scene, she finally exited the bathroom and marched to her room. It was small: a little bed with two pillows in the corner, a nightstand with a lamp and alarm clock, a wooden shelf that stood against a wall filled to the brim with books, a table with stacks of paper, writing utensils, another lamp, a chair, and a standing canvas with which she used to sketch and draw on.
Plus a window.
She sat herself on her bed, still draped in soaked towel. Another towel was definitely needed to speed up the drying process for her hair, but Hana put that aside. Instead, she reached for her phone.
It was an ordinary one with a plain black case. Perfect for her.
She had little to no apps, only the usual ones for messages and notes, with the exception of one which she downloaded for art. Her wallpaper was a group picture of her entire family, and she only had them as her contacts.
