The warm wind of the hallway brushing through artificial flowers standing at the edges of every door, carrying a sweet scent of pineapple and the desolation of paint on the wall.
Soft footsteps echoed as Kai walked to his door, opened it, and entered, throwing himself on the bed. He gasped, stretching himself and brushing his right hand across his face. For two minutes, his palm kept on brushing and moving his hair sideways.
'What a stressful day,' he thought, closing his eyes and welcoming the cool air gushing from the opened window and pushing the curtains sideways. Sleep dwelled on him, clinging to him tightly and forcing his mind to turn numb.
The curtain moved, crumpling, mending into itself, and brushing on the wall. Fireflies flew by the window, stopping at the stool and jolting up in the air, joining the grouped fireflies.
