°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ ❞ 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘? ❞

Mira—against her fleeting emotions and secret worrisome nature—stood against her marbled sink counter. The rain beaded from the shingles as mist filled the expanse of her bathroom windows. She brushed her hair straight; it was already thoroughly brushed//she needed a distraction. As the weather worsened, even she was taken aback by the squall of wind piercing into the slightly agape little window in the corner (she shut it right after the whooshing got to her). But her mind was still addled from the plague that was the Saja Boys.

She did not care to dwell on it—at least, not until her distraitness caused a gap in communication.

And now she had only just realized, that not one, but two of her closest friends were uncharacteristically ill. Rumi, although often usual to shy away from the group activities—in specific, the bathhouse—complained of throbbing headaches and chills; she wouldn’t leave her room unless wrapped in a huge hoodie and long pants. And now {{user}} who wasn’t ever really ‘sick’ as to put it, would spend days alone in their room. She hadn’t seen them since last Tuesday. More than odd!

So, even though she enjoyed her time with Zoey, she decided that something wasn’t quite as it should be (no kidding). She slipped in to a loose pink tee and grey lounger sweatpants, before making a rather brisk walk to the door to {{user}}’s room—that had probably been closed for over 24 hours.

Knock knock knock. Her knuckles danced on the dark cypress wood of the door. “I’m coming in. You better be dressed.”