Spoiler! :
Black Heart
A short but well-built old man named Saibara was who Claire was expecting at her front door, bright and early. Because of this expectation, she was naïve enough to think it would be okay to answer the door wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a baggy sweatshirt; no real clothes; no makeup; no shower.
Humming to herself, Claire opened the door during a pause that had followed two booming knocks. When she looked straight ahead – thinking a pair of eyes would meet hers at the same level – she saw nothing but buttons on a tan work suit. The smile on her face faded, and her brow furrowed as she looked the unfamiliar person up and down.
A faint smile betrayed his lips and his pale face grew pink. He had a hard time meeting his blue eyes with hers as he muttered, “Ah, good morning.”
Claire felt the urge to excuse herself as she closed the door, changed her clothes, and at least put lotion on her face, but she knew she couldn’t without seeming rude. Instead, she practiced one of her only nervous habits – cracking her knuckles.
“Good morning,” she replied. Claire’s face grew warm; she mussed up her blonde hair, hoping he would introduce himself before she would have to ask.
He grabbed something he had set aside – something Claire recognized right away as her axe, but with a new copper head – and held onto it with the handle resting on one of his beat-up work boots. “I’m, uh, here to deliver your axe.”
“Oh,” Claire said, somewhat amused at her ignorance, “I see. I was just expecting someone about a foot shorter than you and probably forty years older.”
The boy gave a nervous laugh but said nothing else. Trying to get something else out of him, she asked, “So you work for Saibara?”
A bemused look crossed his face for a nanosecond before he realized who Claire was talking about. “Er, yeah. He’s my grandfather.” He grabbed the rim of his UMA hat and lowered it so it covered part of his face. By doing that, it revealed to Claire some of his auburn hair.
Saibara’s grandson gazed at the clear Spring sky, and then quickly said, “Well, I hope you like your axe. It should be easier to use now.” He leaned the axe against the door frame and started to leave, but Claire couldn’t let him go without knowing his name.
“Wait.”
The auburn-haired boy stopped in his tracks and faced Claire again. “Yes?”
“What’s your name?” She gave him a sweet smile, hoping it would help entice him to actually tell her.
His face looked dumbstruck, as if he hadn’t heard that question in years. “Gray,” he finally said.
“Gray,” Claire repeated, mostly just for herself to remember. Then she extended her arm, offering him her hand and a smile. “I’m Claire.”
Gray hesitated in taking her hand, but he eventually took it and shook it in a surprisingly firm fashion. The slightest smirk graced his face. “Claire. See you later.”
This time Claire let him leave, and she watched as he strode by Odie’s doghouse and off the farm. She closed the door and walked up to her mirror. Staring into her bloodshot eyes and pimpled skin, she covered her face with her hands and groaned.
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