There is a certain stillness in the morning when she wakes. The pale light encases her room in a glow of blue and the silence of the world outsides makes her feel ethereal. Mayu prefers these moments the best; before she can forget, she remembers. On better days she remembers that there were once words—soft, kind words that dance as a soliloquy in the back of her mind. Of course, she can’t recall what the words once were, but she knows they existed and that is simply enough. These days do not come as often anymore; instead Mayu awakes to the pain gnawing away at her mind, and she desperately wishes that this room of blue light was filled with water so that she may drown with her sorrow and suffering. She is fortunate today, Mayu wistfully thinks, that the cool floor beneath her has ebbed dutifully away at the pain.