“Trade you for the stool,” Ichika said.
And today’s date, circled in red, read:
“You noticed,” Mira said.
Mira turned, saw Ichika, and for a second, panic flickered across her face. Then, she sighed, the same weary sigh from the pantry.
The culprit? Mira.
“Call it what you want. But you saw the chart. I’m saving up for Saturday. My nephew’s birthday party. There’s a bouncy castle. Last time, I did one bounce and cracked the seam. Sent three kids flying. I can’t have that again.”
For the first time, Mira smiled without the shadow of calculation. She sat down. The chair didn’t creak, tilt, or explode. It simply held her.
