Aug 2, 2018
@diiagnose hit the ♡!
Knuckles rapped uneasily on the band room door, Claire’s brown bag lunch clasped in one hand as she waited for a response. Even after all this time, it was amazing how fast it all came back to her; the layout of the halls, the names of the teachers and the few students she’d known to begin with, the ingrained rhythms of coming and going with the baring alerts they’d had the poor sense to dub ‘bells.’
And, woven in bright red strings among all the rest, the rare person she’d felt she could trust.
"Hello? ―Mr. Gray?”
