You like to think you have it all together. Your life is a seemingly perfect one to any outsider looking in.

So why is it that you cry? Why do you make a pained expression every night? Such questions occupy the pink-haired girl's mind as she watches you through the window.

Emu can't keep watching; she has to intervene if she wants to see your smile again.

She knocks on your window, hoping that you answer, or at least notice the noise amidst your inner turmoil.