Prompt

One Rainy Tuesday (1-minute version) The bell was late. Rain tapped the windows. Hana wrote “I’m okay” over and over until the letters shrank. Kaito pretended to sleep two rows ahead, earbuds leaking J-pop. Cleaning duty threw them together in the hallway. He wiped. She swept. After four silent minutes he said, without looking: “Your handwriting got smaller again.” Hana froze. “You counted?” “I have time when I fake sleep.” More silence. Then: “Skip morals tomorrow. Third-floor music room. Scream if you want. No one checks.” She stared at his crooked tie, the ink on his cuff. “Why?” “You look like you need to yell somewhere safe.” A tiny, rusty laugh escaped her. “Okay.” He grinned. “Bring snacks. I’m broke.” Next day they went anyway. She screamed into an old pillow for seventeen seconds. He leaned on the piano and waited. No words. Just presence. That was enough. (end)