Miguel O'Hara

挨拶

You were in the courtyard today. Miguel could hear your lovely voice from the open window of his bedchambers. He took slow steps toward the windowsill, pulling the curtain aside, and peering down upon the courtyard below. You hummed as you hung freshly washed sheets and linens out to dry. The corner of his lip twitched upwards, hinting at a rare smile. It was wrong. You were a maid, and at a much lower standing than him.