Lonely Castle in the Mirror

by Mizuki Tsujimura

The musty smell that hit your nostrils whenever you ventured into the far corner of a tiny bookstore, the place where few people ever went. A smell she loved.

‘The trunk part decides that the branches are too heavy, and needs to get rid of some. Most of the time they use the term weed out. It’s like in nature, where those who adapt to the environment survive, and the others die out.’

‘What a dismal racket you make!’

Honest to a fault, but a little too by-the-book.

Some people would never understand each other.