At a quarter past five, Mrs. Saeki arrived home. She brought back a few bunches of items. Most of them were fresh fruits that the inn kitchen let her have.
"I'm home. Son, how're you feeling?"
Mrs. Saeki neatly placed her shoes at the entryway. From the door, she could already see her only son sitting while leaning against the wall. There were hooks and yarn threads in his hands.
Heisuke lifted up his eyes from the unfinished crochet piece to his mother, "Welcome home, Mom. I'm good. I slept after taking medicine."
"Did you finish the meal I left for you?" asked Mrs. Saeki as she went to the kitchen. Her gaze was attracted by an unfamiliar food container left to dry on the counter, "Whose jar is this?"
Just because of a simple question, a blush crept on Heisuke's face.
"It's Hisaki's."
Surprised, Mrs. Saeki abruptly looked at her son. She intoned her confusion, "Hisaki's? Did she make food for you?"
