drizl

A few hours later, Hinata was awake, going through the motions of getting ready for the day. She had risen from her bed, from the security of her quilt, wiped her eyes, and had slowly hopped into the shower, like an automaton. Hinata's eyes never looked up as the warm water washed over her, washed the salty remains of her silent tears away. Her head was bent in sadness, in self-pity. She got out, dried herself, and threw on her normal clothes, pulling her soft hoodie over her head and slipping into its comfort. Breakfast was a glass of milk and some toast, and she munched it halfheartedly, her pale purple eyes glossed over and half closed.