Under the Rain, Misaki | Usui, poncy-pontification
Misaki felt very under the weather. Her movements were sluggish and her thoughts were like molasses. Her hearing and vision were affected, too. It was like trying to listen with cotton-stuffed ears, or see in an early morning haze. Not impossible, of course, but pretty damn hard.
However, there were at least two things she could count as fortunate. One: The perverted space alien by name of Usui hadn't shown up at the café (yet, at least. She hoped he wouldn't.). Two: Her shift was nearly over. She had another hour to work, and she figured she could pull herself together at least until then. Then she could take the train home and collapse, and possibly hibernate for the weekend. If she didn't have too much homework left to take care of. If.
She could pull herself together for an hour. Maybe. Possibly.
… She wasn't too sure on that front anymore, but she had to try! This was work, and it helped pay the bills that most definitely needed paying. This wouldn't be a problem if a certain good for nothing selfish irritating goddamn son-of-a-bitch lout belonging to the male half of the race didn't up and disappear on them, leaving a massive debt.
But, no. He did. He left a debt and a poor wife and two daughters. A frail woman with a weak constitution, a middle schooler too young to work, and a high schooler too stressed out and untrusting for her age. So Misaki worked.
She worked until her bones ached and breathing wasn't exactly easy anymore. One could say she over overworked herself. Her shift still had forty-five minutes to go, she could handle this much. Just a little more effort and she'd make it until the end of her shift. Then she could go home and rest.
30 minutes
15 minutes
10 minutes
5 minutes
The last five minutes of her shift were almost merciful. She was taken off the floor and taking out the trash that had accumulated. The day had been busy, so she had to dump the waste earlier than normal. That was a fairly easy task. Or, it would have been if her limbs didn't feel like lead.
And it was raining outside. Go figure. How had she not noticed that while on the floor? Sigh. Now she was soaked. She was soaked, cold, and achy. Her limbs still felt like lead, her thoughts were still thick, but she felt hotter so it seemed appropriate to equate the feeling in her head to molten glass. It still felt like cotton was in her ears, still felt like she was trying to stare through an early morning haze that had thickened to a dew-y, wet, dense fog.
The rain, while miserable, did feel nice in comparison to her heated body.
Rain? She didn't remember stepping outside. She remembered mentally commenting on it being there, but she didn't remember setting even a toe out of the staff door. Odd.
Wait, her vision was hazing even more. Shit.
She didn't have time for this, she had to finish taking out the trash, clock out, and go home.
The ground is strangely soft, isn't it…?