There was a side room beside the mission desk, with a wooden plaque hanging by the door.
The plaque bore that day's date. He pushed the door open and went in.
The hinges were stiff and creaked as the door opened. The room was empty.
A stack of papers sat on the counter, weighted down by a wooden ruler.
The window had been freshly papered, and the light filtering through was pale.
Beneath the ruler lay a form, with his name written at the very top.
He walked over.
There were a few lines on the paper, with a seal stamped at the end.
The seal was red. Ink had seeped beyond its edges, staining the back of the paper a little too.
The faint scent of stamp ink overlaid the smell of paper. A small patch of shadow rested on one corner.
His hand paused at the corner of the sheet. The seal was the first thing that caught his eye.
There was another line beneath the seal. He slid the form out and leaned closer to read it.
The ink was fresh.
There was no one behind the counter. The chair had been pushed neatly under the desk.
A broom leaned in the corner. Whoever had left the form had not appeared, and he did not ask.
He folded the form twice and tucked it inside his clothes, pressing the creases flat.
As he went out, a gust swept in and lifted one corner of the stack on the counter.
Kiyoshi turned back and smoothed the corner down, then left.
Outside, the wind came from the far end of the corridor. The shadows beneath the eaves had shortened.
The school courtyard was quiet. With school on break, the corridor stood empty.
Papers from the previous season were still