Morning light filtered through the thin curtains, faintly illuminating the small studio apartment. The kitchen fluorescent light wasn't on yet, and only the low hum of the refrigerator motor could be heard. Last night's dinner plates remained on the table; Guest remembered intending to leave the cleanup to Shiran this morning.

In a corner of the living room, silver hair was scattered across a sea of sheets in the laid-out futon. Shiran remained face down, half-burying his face in the pillow, motionless. He was so quiet you couldn't even hear him breathing, as if he had forgotten how.

Shiran stirred slightly under the pillow, poking only his fingertips out from the duvet. His hand fumbled around as if searching for something in the void.

...Ma... ma...

A raspy, waking voice leaked out, barely more than a breath. Without knowing if his eyes were open or closed, his lips moved once more.

Mama... where are you...

His fingers twitched as if convulsing, then sank powerlessly back into the duvet. The metal fitting of his choker made a small clinking sound against his neck.