“Then? What happens next?” readily asks Kiyoko, leaning forward to the edge of her seat. I recline deep into my chair and let out a self-assured chuckle as I twirl a pen between my fingers. I then glance up at Kiyoko, then back at the pen, hoping she notices my talent. Just after, it slips between my fingers then smacks onto the floor. I let out a deep sigh, then sit up and face her.

“What do you mean ‘What happens next?’, isn’t it obvious?” Kiyoko must be testing me with this question; surely she of all people would understand what happens in conjunction with everything I just told her.

“Well, I feel like I do, but am hoping that I’m wrong” replies Kiyoko, giggling under her breath.

‘Hoping that I’m wrong’? Well, she won’t expect this! I respond with vigor, “The protagonist obviously kisses her, then they move away to Scotland, have a kid named Charles, and that’s it! The end!”

Now that’s an ending.

“Yuriko,” Kiyoko starts, checking her notebook, then looking back at me, “you’ve told me the same story six times, and the only things you’ve changed are the names of the characters and the location they move to once they’re married."

“And the name of their kid” I reply, tapping the side of my head. Who would have thought Kiyoko would see me as such a fountain of knowledge?

“And the name of their kid” repeats Kiyoko with a giggle. “Yuriko, is this how you write all of your novels?”

“Mmm, just about, yeah.”

“Don’t you know that you’re basically just telling the same thing over and over and over again?” asks Kiyoko, twirling her fingers to make emphasis on the ‘over and over and over’ again part. I shake my head at her, then smile.

“Yep, I know,” I respond, taking the final sip of my coffee. “Why change the perfect story?”

I stand before the mountain of cloth that has slowly erected in the corner of my room over the past week.

“Laundry day…” I whisper to myself, sighing at the words. I quickly turn away from the heap and fall back onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Kiyoko had just left after visiting for about two hours this morning for advice on her novel; specifically for advice on writing romance. “Take that, Fuji!” I shout as I spring up from my bed and point at myself in the mirror. I strike a wide pose and put my other hand on my hip. “Who said I didn’t know anything about romance?” I walk up to myself in the mirror. “I’ve been writing romance for years, if anybody knows anything about it, it oughta be me!” I then notice that I still have that coffee stain splattered across the chest of my pajama shirt. I guess I should change out of this.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I unbutton my shirt and heave it towards the pile of clothes in the corner of my room. Opening up my closet, I find only one complete outfit left before I would be completely out of clothes. Today really is laundry day. I strip off my fluffy white pajama pants, then pull the last remaining shirt and jeans from their hangers; to which I quickly pull them on.

Standing in an elevator holding a basket full of my clothes is my least favorite thing to do. I tried my best to bury the stuff like my bra and panties at the bottom, but it’s still sort of noticeable through the side of the basket. I really wish each apartment had its own washer and dryer... that would be a godsend.

I lift my leg up and hit the “down” button on the elevator with my foot. The door almost instantly slides open and I quickly shuffle my way in. “Success,” I say to myself, observing the empty elevator. The doors close and the elevator starts to move down. Now as long as… a ring chimes in the elevator, and it stops moving. I look up at the numbers to see what floor I’m on; This isn’t ground floor, this is floor 2! I look around, as if seeking an escape, but find none. It’s okay Yuriko, just as long as- The doors slide open, but the mountain of clothes impedes my sight. Maybe this is good! I’ll just hide behind my laundry and-

“Oh, Yuriko! What’s up?” asks an angelic voice. Haru. He walks into the elevator and stands next to me. My eyes glass over. Why does Haru always pop up at the worst times?! I look over at him, then quickly turn my head away.

“Oh, ya know, hahaha, just doing some laundry!” I say, averting all eye contact. I can see myself in the elevator mirror, and my hair looks like a poorly done afro with how frizzy it is. I catch a glimpse of him in the mirror as well; he’s wearing a button up black long coat, with his hair pushed up perfectly to the side.

“A little laundry?” he replies with a chuckle, looking at my overflowed basket.

“I have been..uhh.. busy working lately! I just completely forgot about it, haha!” obviously, that was a lie, but he mustn't know of my procrastination habits. No way. I’m the super cool successful author Yuriko Akimoto.

“Well good thing I caught you, then!” he replies, turning to face me. He has this enthusiastic smile on his face that I can’t help from smiling back at. “I was wondering since you’re often working, if you’d want to plan a meet up sometime to discuss some ideas for character designs… if that’s okay with you, of course,” he purposes.

Me? And Haru? Doing something together? I guess it’s to be expected, considering we will be working together on volume two… I answer quickly.

“Sure it’s okay with me, yeah! Anytime that works for you.”

“Okay, how about on Sunday? We can meet at Westborough for three?”

“Okay!” I blurt out.

*ding*

Suddenly, the elevator door slides open.

“Alright well, see you around then!” exclaims Haru with a wave goodbye as he steps out of the elevator. I wave back and smile. I stand in the elevator, holding my smile as I watch him walk away.

“Westborough…” I whisper to myself. “West...borough?” I furrow my eyebrows at the thought. Where on earth is that?

*ding*

As I stand pondering, the elevator doors slide closed. I stare at myself in the mirror, my eyes peeping over the mountain of clothes.

Vaughn springs up over them.