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Simple Treatment
The day started just like the previous ones: exercise, breakfast, solitude... Sotomayor hadn't returned home since Sunday afternoon. He got up several times during the night to check the raven-haired girl's room, but he didn't find her. He didn't call her either, although he contemplated the idea of calling her several times, but with what excuse? He fell asleep, clutching the device with a screen that read, "damn pig."
He had breakfast completely alone; the cereal with milk lacked flavor, as if it wasn't the same cereal as the day before...
Sunday, Seven in the Morning...
"Ah!" He stretched lazily and then scratched his head, running his fingers through his disheveled black hair. He walked into the kitchen, dragging his feet. "What's for breakfast?"
Yukio stared at her. Sotomayor entered the kitchen dressed in a red pajama with the nightgown partially unbuttoned at the front, exposi
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