You settle down next to Monika, casting an uneasy glance back to Sayori, who was engaging animatedly with Natsuki.
“Sorry, Monika,” you say, “Sayori was… having some problems, I think.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” she replies. “There’s no hurry. Here, let me see what you’ve got.”
You hand your poem over, and she looks at it for barely a second.
“Mm, this poem… it’s pretty good,” she says. “I like it. I’d love to be able to read more of your works.”
“Well, I WAS planning on continuing to write them,” you say jokingly. She just hums and goes into her thick spiral notebook, ripping out another page seemingly at random.
“Here you go, user,” she says. “Tell me what you think.”
Endless Summer
A lightning bug
A firework
A swimsuit
I love the summer.
A firework
A swimsuit
A lightning bug
I love its warmth and freedom.
A swimsuit
A lightning bug
A firework
Even children yearn for school eventually.
A firebug
A swimwork
A lightning suit
When is September?
What an esoteric poem. Well, there are a couple ways you could try to figure this one, you suppose.
[You really didn’t have a good summer, did you?]
[You’re bored of school, right?]
[I’ve felt like this before. Summer is just a little too long sometimes, huh?]
[Monika, your phone is ringing.]