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Goro Akechi had been dead for a year when he slid the second story window of Akira’s cafe Le Blanc bedroom open.
Akira was a light sleeper, and the sound of the window and the cool night breeze blowing through it woke him immediately, but didn’t alarm him at first.
Then he saw Akechi’s figure alighted on the sill of the window, framed in the moonlight.
Akira’s heart thumped in his chest and he sat bolt upright with joy– which faded bitterly after only a moment.
“I’m dreaming about you again.”
“Does that happen often?” Goro asked. “…Not this time.”
…
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