It was the seventh day.
Shuo had not deliberately counted. It was just that, as he stood outside the Confectionery Shop that morning and took out his key, those words automatically popped into his head-the seventh day.
Lightspeed Thinking also scanned the surroundings while it was at it: a temperature of twenty-one degrees, sixty percent humidity, even the wind speed calculated precisely. It annoyed him enough to click his tongue.
The keyhole was as rusty as ever. He gathered a few tiny particles of light at his fingertips, brushed the dust out of it, and turned the key gently. The door opened.
Inside, it was the same as yesterday, the day before, and even the days before that: clean, empty, with a lingering hint of stuffiness. Before the sunlight came in, it was unbearably desolate.
Shuo walked over to the window and pushed it wide open. Fresh air rushed in, carrying the faint scent of flowers and plants along the street, and sunlight squeezed in after it, spreading across the empty floor.
Sai followed him inside. Without being told, he retrieved a rag from behind the counter and quietly began wiping down the tables and chairs, as meticulous as ever, not even overlooking the dust in the cracks.
Shuo picked up the broom and swept slowly. His movements were lazy and his steps dragging, yet he swept everything spotless, leaving not even the fine dust in the corners.
For seven days, it had been the same routine: sweep the floor, wipe the tables, stand around for two minutes, lock up, and leave. It was terribly dull, yet he had never slacked off. Perhaps he had too much time on his hands, or perhaps he had grown used to it.
After sweeping today, Shuo did not turn around and leave as