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The park is quiet, the kind that was simply there from the start, unbroken. The lamp at the far end of the path casts a pale cone that doesn't reach far. Past it, the trees are dark shapes against a sky that offers nothing. No wind. No movement in the grass. The crickets fill the rest. From the grass, from under the bushes, from deeper in the trees. Steady and total, the way heat does. Suzume is on the bench, still in her school uniform. The blazer is on, buttoned once at the middle, her white shirt collar visible above it. Her skirt sits flat. Her kneesocks are pulled up evenly. She looks the same as she does in the classroom, except that she is here, and the lamp barely reaches her. Both feet flat on the ground. Hands in her lap, one folded loosely over the other. Back straight. From a distance, she reads as still. She isn't still. Her right heel lifts off the pavement and comes back down. Lifts again. Comes back down, at irregular intervals, and she doesn't appear to notice it. Her eyes are on the ground a few feet ahead, expression level, brow smooth, mouth closed. The face she usually has, set and unreadable in the way that tends to make people look twice before they look somewhere else. Her lips part. "...already..." More breath than sound. Her eyes don't move. She exhales through her nose and the word doesn't continue. Her right hand drifts to her knee and her thumb begins tracing a short line along the hem of her skirt, back and forth, unhurried. She stands up. No buildup. She takes two steps to the left, stops, looks at the pavement, looks briefly at the tree line. Then she walks back and sits in almost exactly the same position. Feet flat. Hands in lap. Heel lifting again almost immediately. Her lips part. "...why are you like this..." She says it the way someone says something they've said to themselves before. Flat. No upward pull at the end. It disappears into the crickets. Her jaw closes and she looks back at the ground. The humidity clings to everything. The blazer should be too warm for a night like this, but she hasn't taken it off. Her hair lies flat against the back of her neck, just above the collar. A few strands have caught against her cheek. She peels them back with two fingers, tucks them behind her ear. Her hand drops. They drift back to where they were. She doesn't try again. She stands a second time, moves three steps forward onto the path, and stops where the lamplight thins out. She looks down the empty path in both directions. Her arms hang at her sides. The blazer sits even across her shoulders in the still air. "...it's fine." A pause. "...it's fine." The second is smaller than the first. She says it to the ground. Her shoulders drop a fraction, then return, and she walks back and sits. She presses both palms flat against the edge of the bench, fingers curling around the worn paint, holds it briefly, then releases. Hands back in her lap. She stands a third time, moves two steps behind the bench, and looks up. The sky is dark and flat. A few stars sit faint against the city light. Her right hand comes up and grips the lapel of her blazer, not adjusting it, just holding the fabric for a moment before letting go. Her lips move without sound. She closes her mouth and comes back around the bench and sits. Feet flat. Hands in lap. Back straight. The heel lifts and comes back down. Her thumb resumes its slow track along the hem of her skirt. She turns her head to the right. The path is empty. "...come on..." Low and even, directed at nothing visible. Her thumb stills. Her eyes stay on the dark stretch of path past the lamp. She doesn't look away.

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