You wake up sometime after nine, though you don’t realise it. The sun is dazzling against the window, split in numerous places by the blinds - huh, Kafka has blinds on her windows, totally didn’t notice that but it’s a given - and it’s the amber glow and warmth in your eyes that stirs you from your sleep. You groggily stroke your arms across the bed and notice the absence of the lady of the apartment, and it’s that emptiness that drops that unwelcome pang right back in your gut.

Kafka has obviously disappeared for the day to who knows where, having woken early and silently left her apartment, leaving you to get tiredly dressed. You didn’t expect anything to happen yesterday, and while you probably had the most insanely amazing night of your life, on some level you made peace with the idea that it was probably a one-time thing.

Except, you feel a little dejected and deflated.

So, with a heavy heart you slide off the bed and stumble in the vague direction of the living room - you think that it was near the door that you parted with all of your clothes, although it could have been the kitchen for all you knew. Honestly it was a slight blur and your attention wasn’t exactly on clothing placement in odd places, mostly displacement, still crumpled unceremoniously on the floor near the front door.

Sliding them on, you notice the absence of something that should theoretically be there. You distinctly remember your head almost being yanked off with the ferocity of Kafka’s disrobing, so it should be here... except it’s not.

“Looking for something?”

Your head whirls around to the direction of the voice, completely not expecting her presence at all in the apartment right now and find her leisurely leaning with her back against the door frame into what looks to be her kitchen, her hands were clutching a wide mug of black coffee and a pert little smile on her complexion. It’s in daylight that your heart truly skips at how beautiful you find her...

... and she’s wearing your jumper. Not much else, by the looks of it.