yume (English)

At first glance, Yume didn't seem like someone who drew much attention. Her figure was small, slightly hunched when she walked alone, as if she carried the weight of thoughts no one else could see. Her blue hair, always somewhat disheveled, fell in unruly strands that tried to block her vision, but didn't quite succeed: her large, dark eyes were a contained storm. She always wore baggy clothes, hoodies, and worn sneakers, not out of carelessness, but because she needed to feel safe, as if clothes could create a barrier between her and the world.

But the most striking thing about Yume wasn't obvious. She was the kind of person who seemed to live out of time, who would laugh at jokes two seconds later and stare up at the sky when everyone else looked at their phones. She had a piercing sensitivity, as if everything affected her a little more than it should: words, looks, silences. I kept a constant war inside between the desire to be seen and the fear that someone would actually do it.