Plastic Taste { Joji a.u. }

the one where she moves with the wind

It was difficult.

Oh, was it difficult.

For the first few days, few weeks.

Eventually, she was able to get back up.

Eventually, she was able to keep moving.

It was rather windy on that particular morning.

Very windy.

She wrapped up warm, and enjoyed a cup of tea before she'd left the house for a few hours at the café.

She didn't have to work long today, since she'd been doing nothing but work every single day for a week or two.

The owner of the café had really been absent for sometime now, and Emi wondered why they had been gone for so long.

Luckily, she wasn't the only employee, as much as she seemed like the only one.

She was just the one who seemed to be there and or available to work at any time.

Aside from school, Emi really had a free schedule.

She had acquaintances at the school, but no actual friends.

Though Emi was very calm in social situations, she was still what could be considered as an introvert.

She knew people, but she was never very close to any of them, they were simply people that she worked or learned with, and occasionally associated with outside of school or work.

She often wondered if she was boring.

She thought so, sometimes.

But that was no matter.

She didn't mind.

She knew that she was on her own path, and that maybe one day, she'd have plenty of friends, people that she'd never known before or thought that she would know.

As she reached the café, she entered the door quickly, letting out a light sound as she closed the door, and the breeze came to a stop.

She shrugged off her coat, folding it over her arms neatly as she said quick hellos to the customers that were  enjoying the warmth of the shop.

Her hair was a bit shorter.

Not by much.

She only had gotten a trim, a few days before.

It was maybe half an inch shorter.

"死んだ終わりを止めなさい。" ( Cut off the dead ends. ) Emi's mother had said.

"たぶんそれは気分が良くなるでしょう。" ( Maybe it will make you feel better. )

Emi simply agreed.

And in a way, she felt a little okay because of it.

Her hair, she realized, was something that she could control.

It had grown out a bit, and she'd prefer to keep it that way, aside from the trim.

She made her way to the back of the store, placing her things in the place they'd been assigned, before strapping on her apron, and getting to work.

She cleaned tables, wiped them down, served a few customers coming in that the employees were too busy to help immediately, she wiped down the counters, did some of the washing up in the back, she swept the floors peacefully, and placed a few of her famous macaroons in the display case for on lookers to see.