After I saw the corpse, it took me a while to process. I couldn't do anything for what felt like hours. I ran away to another street and called the police. About fifteen minutes later, they found me hugging my legs underneath the playground at the park.

  They had serious faces. They probably thought I was some kid joking and wasting their time. I wish I was. I wish I was still at the club. I wish I could extend the night longer before I went back home. I wished I didn't see the body at all. That's what I get for being curious. Or perhaps, that's what I get for avoiding home the entire day.

  After I directed them to the body, they had similar yet toned down reactions and called for back up. One of them took me back to the police station and took me in for questioning. They gave me a blanket and some water. I told them what I saw. It's a simple story so I don't know what they expected; it's not like I did it. I just had the misfortune of being the one to find it.

  In the corner of my eye, I can still see a hand. Every time I blink, I fraction of that handsome face is etched into my vision. The faint smell of something rotten is burned into my nostrils.

  As they investigated the scene, one of the men in the police station came to me in private. The only reason I don't think he's a police officer is because he looked distinctly different. He's a lean, built 19-20 year old man with rust colored spikey hair. He's wearing a formal suit unlike the rest of them. And black leather gloves for some reason. Despite the formal attire, I could tell that his pronounced forearms and large hands could barely be contained by his clothes.

  He came up to me and kneeled.

  "Are you okay?" He asked, intently looking at me in the eyes.

  Despite his kind demeanor, I could tell his eyes were sad. As much as he steeled himself, I could see through him.

  "Yes," I responded.

  He nodded. "May I ask your name?"

  I expected him to have already talked to the police, but I still obliged. "Hana Kaneko."

  "I see." He presented his hand. "Keiji Nakamura."

  I shook his hand.

  "Did you happen to know this man?" He asked.

  "No."

  He stared at me, weirdly concentrating on several parts of my face and body. "Hm. I apologize you had to see something like this. I'm working with the police to investigate this as much as possible."

  He then patted me and held his hand on my head for three seconds. At first I thought it was a demeaning gesture; I'm young but I'm not a toddler. But as I looked at him, he seemed concentrated. In the same demeanor one would calmly read a book. He then lifted his hand.

  "It's getting late." He said. "Let's get you home. Are your parents able to-"

  "No." I responded. "I..."

  I hesitated, but I said something else. "Are you able to take me home instead?"

  He looked at me inquisitively. "Sure. Let's go."

  After leaving behind the blanket and water, I got into his car and told him my address. The ride was quiet; the car was filled with police radio barking orders through the speaker. We eventually arrived near the corner between the post where I found the body, and my house. We got out of the car where he walked me up to my door step.

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  "Well, Ms. Kaneko," said Keiji. I could tell he wanted to bring up why I didn't call for my parents but, he prompted for something else. "I wish you well. Please rest, and have a goodnight." He walked to his car and rode away into the darkness.

  And now, I stand here. The mist is so thick and heavy tonight. As much as I want to go to the 24 hour convenience store, it would only delay the inevitable. There's a tightness in my chest. I don't want to look at him, but every time I blink, I see the dead man staring back at me anyway. My hands tremble. As much as I want to sleep at grandma's, I haven't seen mom or brother in the entirety of today.

  And

  I

  I...

  My throat hurts.

  I don't want to see him.

  I don't want to cry.

  But I need a hug.

  I open the door.

  It's the familiar scene.

  I walk inside and take my shoes off. My father barely glances at me, before continuing to play with my brother and watch the tv. My brother springs out of my father's lap and sprints towards me.

  "Hana!" He yells, hugging my legs. I pick him up and hold him dearly. I kiss him on the cheek, nose and forehead. "I missed you so much," I whisper to him. I try not to cry. As I close my eyes when I hold him, I could still see the dead man. But with my brother in my arms, I don't care.

  I open my eyes back up.

  My father stares at me. He looks at the clock. "You came later than usual," he announces.

  I lower my brother back to the ground, where he waddles his way back to my father's lap. Now that I think about it, he looks a lot more tired than usual. His hair is wet suggesting he just showered. Yet his posture seems drained. "Yeah. I'm sorry for coming late."

  He nods, and then continues to watch TV.

  I hesitate. I really don't want to do this. But I can't keep it in.

  "D-dad?"

  He takes a second to look at me. His home country just scored a goal. "Yeah?"

  "I saw a dead body today."

  He blinks. It takes a couple seconds before he continues to ask. "What?"

  "On my way back to school, I saw a dead body. That's why I was late from school."

  He processes what I said. "Oh. Did you call the police?"

  "Yes."

  "I see..."

  My little brother looks back and forth between me and our father in confusion.

  "Well, good job," is all that my father says.

  I look at the ground and go straight to my room.

  .

  .

  .

  30 minutes have passed. I'm laying in bed, trying hard not to fall asleep. With my lights and tv on, my eye lids feel like sandbags. Yet, every time I close my eyes. Every single time. I see him. And yet, in the corner of my eye, I could feel the coldness radiating off of him, just out of sight, slurping on a rotten peach.

  I hear mom finally come back home.

  I can hear her crying from my room. Before I could run straight for her, I could hear my father talking. He's clearly confused. He's asking lots of questions... but he's not raising his voice against her. I lay back down. I scooch aside, for the man eating the peach takes the end of my bed. It's getting cramped, but it doesn't look like he cares.

  Eventually, mom comes in. I burst out of my bed and hug her tightly. I caress her head, resting mine on top of hers. "What's wrong mom?" I ask.

  "I'm sorry Hana," she says. I take her back to my bed where we both lay down. It's so cramped. Yet its so warm.

  "M-Money is going to be very tight for the next few weeks sweety," explains mom. "I-I don't know what happened to the bank accounts but, we're going to ask the bank what happened in the morning."

  "Oh mom" I say, hugging her tightly. Everything about her is warm. From the body heat radiating, to the hot tears rolling down to my shirt. My breathing gets heavy. Oh, how I missed you.

  "W-We're going to have grandma help us for the time being, ok?" She assures me.

  "Ok." I say. I steel myself. I don't want to cry in front of mom. She needs support. But this damn can only hold so long.

  I burry my head into her chest. "What's wrong honey? Everything will be ok." She assures back.

  "It's not about the money it's... I... I saw a corpse today."

  I can feel her heart beat harder through her ribs.

  "What?" She asks, holding me tighter.

  I explained the entire situation. She wiped the tears off my face. Though teary eyed, she still holds me, and shushes me with assurance. Her warm hands cradle the back of my head, kissing me. I hear little foot steps come our way. It's my little brother who wandered into my room. He sees us crying. He gets on my bed and wraps his little arms around us, resting his little head on our shoulders. He doesn't know why, but he sheds a tear too.

  This is the first time in months that I've felt this safe and warm.

  Despite the lack of room on the bed, he shifted his position to the corner of the room. I can still see him, hugging his legs, eating a mushy, spoiled peach. Perhaps its not malice, but envy that he gives with those eyes.

  Despite his stares, I have never felt more warm. Perhaps with this, he too could sustain for a moment.

  Sometimes, I wish I could look as beautiful as he did when he died.

  But at this specific point and time, it's one of the few times where I don't want to die.

  https://youtu.be/GITdq6_Dr7g?feature=shared