In City A, early morning arrived with a heavy, hazy mist.
Moist clouds clung stubbornly to the grayish sky, draining away any hint of vitality. Stuffy and humid—these were the defining words for this city.
Grace woke up very early. In the pitch-black room, she lay on her side, staring lazily at the half-drawn curtains a short distance away, and let out a quiet yawn.
In the silent space, the faint sound of footsteps outside the bedroom was easily audible.
She thought with absolute certainty: *That must be my older sister getting up.*
She always woke up earlier than anyone else.
Grace’s dark eyes remained fixed on the curtains, as if something fascinating were hidden right there.
The footsteps by the doorway went downstairs, and the ambient noise from the lower floor gradually grew clearer.
The voices of her mother and sister talking.
The sharp *ding* of the microwave.
Even the sound of her father flipping through the financial newspaper drifted into her ears.
Because someone in the house played the piano, the soundproofing of the bedrooms was quite good, making these noises muffled and distant.
Yet somehow, perhaps because it was a daily routine, her ears caught every single detail naturally.
The slightly unclipped curtains stirred with a faint breeze.
*She must have forgotten to close the window tightly again, just like Mom warned,* Grace thought.
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