A Light in the Hallway

The morning began like any other for Haruto. The alarm clock blared at seven o’clock, a sharp melody he barely heard anymore. He reached out, hit the snooze button, and instead of getting up, he just stared at the ceiling. The room smelled of unfolded laundry, and in a corner, a pile of books, notes, and an open backpack sat as if they hadn’t been touched in days.

“Five more minutes…” he mumbled, even though he knew it would be fifteen.

When he finally got up, the clock already read half past seven. He got dressed without much effort: a white uniform shirt with a few wrinkles, dark gray pants, a crooked tie. He shuffled down the stairs, his hair still a mess.

The kitchen was filled with the aroma of miso and toast. His grandmother, wearing her usual blue apron, chopped vegetables with a calmness that only age can bring.

“Late again?” she asked without turning around, a tired smile on her lips.

“Yeah…” Haruto replied, grabbing a piece of toast from the plate. “But not as late as yesterday.”

The old woman gave him a sidelong glance. She didn’t say anything, just let out a soft sigh, like someone who no longer had the energy to scold. Haruto bit into the toast and left, closing the door behind him. 

The sky was cloudy, and the air smelled of wet earth; it seemed like it would rain at any moment.

The school was as lively as ever. Students entering and leaving classrooms, the younger ones running through the hallways, the older ones reviewing books before the first-hour exam. Haruto walked slowly, his backpack half-open and his uniform disheveled.

“Hey, Haruto!” a boy with dark circles under his eyes shouted, leaning against a vending machine. “Late again?”

Haruto just raised a hand in greeting without stopping.“At least I came,” he replied, with a half-smile.

Another one of his friends, more serious, crossed his arms as he approached. His uniform was impeccable and his hair neatly combed, a stark contrast to Haruto.

“How many absences do you have now? You’re going to get a report, you know?”Haruto shrugged. He knew they were right, but it was easier to act as if it didn't matter. He kept walking down the main hallway, the longest one in the school, the one that connected the old building with the new one. The large windows let in a gray, dim light.

That's when it happened.

As he turned the corner, he saw a girl leaving a classroom. She had a pile of notebooks in her arms and walked with a serene pace, as if the noise of the hallway didn’t affect her. The first thing Haruto noticed was her blond hair, which fell in soft strands to the middle of her back, shining even in the dull daylight. Then, her eyes: blue, clear as a summer sky he hadn't seen without clouds in a long time.

Haruto barely looked away, but at that moment his badly closed backpack came all the way open. Two notebooks fell to the floor with a hollow thud.

“Great…” he mumbled, bending down to pick them up.The girl stopped. Without a word, she also knelt down, took one of the notebooks, and held it gently. Her voice sounded clean and calm:“You dropped this.”

Haruto looked up. For a second, just one second, he was silent. There was something in her eyes, something that didn’t ask for anything in return. It just helped because it was the right thing to do.

“Uh… thanks,” he finally said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

She smiled faintly, a small but sincere smile, and handed him the notebook. Then she got up, adjusted the books in her arms, and continued walking, disappearing into the crowd.

Haruto stood motionless for a moment, watching her go. He didn't even know her name. But something in his chest felt different, as if a window had opened and let in fresh air.

That afternoon, back in his room, Haruto collapsed onto his bed. He looked at the ceiling, the old posters, the fan that spun slowly. He closed his eyes, and the scene came back to his head: the golden hair, the blue eyes, the small smile.

It wasn't love, not yet. It was just something.Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He stayed silent, with that “something” beating slowly in his chest, not understanding it, not wanting to understand it completely.