Wake up, morning routine, spend the afternoon with Blueberry Milk, go to your garden, have dinner, and sleep.
Wake up, morning routine, spend the afternoon with Blueberry Milk, go to your garden, have dinner, and sleep.
Wake up, sleep, wake up, sleep.
Why did everything feel so repetitive?
"Ugh!" A hiss escaped your lips as you noticed the small cut on your finger.
It seemed you had pressed too hard against the rose’s thorns, causing blood to well up from the wound.
You brought your finger to your mouth, licking it to stop the bleeding and avoid doing anything else foolish. You had never been careless enough to cut yourself on your own flowers before.Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of something—small blue specks, just for a fraction of a second.
You immediately turned your head, scanning your surroundings, but there was nothing. No one. Just you.
Maybe you really were starting to get a little paranoid. After all, Blueberry Milk was right—you did need more sleep.
He was always right. Not you. The one acting strangely was you, not him.
















