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... my sleeves of clothes.

"Don't touch."

In the meantime, Callisto, who had been rushing, forced me to take off my wrist.

And he covered my nose with a handkerchief that I didn't know where it came from, and put my head backward, supporting my chin.

"Do you carry this with you?"

When I asked in a nasal voice, he breathed that seemed to hold back his anger. "You know. I'm carrying everything because of someone."

"I'm fine."

I answered timidly.

With my ...

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Glyph of sand.
ABO, I don’t know what to write, just arrange it.
The cultural design is mine, please leave if you don’t like it.
Which channel to write about is my business, and I don’t need others to tell me what to do.
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