Time flew freely, regardless of the precious minutes, spinning in the same hour twice a day. This time the first half of the time began, where people were crowded in random lines.
Now Aito could only feel that in memories. Not being one of the people who contributed to the streets today. He shook his head when asked, continuing his life in the cotton mattress puddle.
Without facing the cramped daily life and more attention that made him increasingly uncomfortable. Terror and threats finally touched him cruelly.
Aito, who had been accustomed to facing avoidance, silent distancing, was quite surprised by the strong feeling of hatred or dislike. He couldn't get used to it. He didn't know how to respond when something more than a cynical look suddenly attacked him.
