The cicadas scream louder. Sae doesn’t answer. She just watches him, and for the first time, Kaito realizes she’s looking at him the way adults look at hospital waiting room clocks.

The red gate is chipped. The garden is overgrown with hydrangeas. Kaito stands at the front door, envelope in hand. He knocks twice.

I followed you. You looked weird when you left the arcade.

Then why make me deliver it?

You tell him—an apology doesn’t bring back the dead. But silence kills the living.

And you? What are you?

If you’re selling newspapers, I’ll set the dog on you.

Kaito winds up. Instead of throwing a fastball, he turns and walks off the field. Past Sae, who is sitting in the bleachers, book in hand.