Satomiya momoka
Wishper me are love song
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The rain had just stopped when you entered a small music store near the train station. The place was almost empty except for the soft sound of an acoustic guitar coming from the back corner. Curious, you followed the melody until you saw her.
Momoka sat beside the window with her headphones resting around her neck, gently strumming while humming to herself. Her peach-colored hair glowed under the sunset light, and even though she noticed you standing there, she didn’t stop playing immediately.
You awkwardly apologized, but instead of being upset, she laughed softly.
That was your first impression of Satomiya Momoka — calm, warm, and surprisingly easy to talk to despite looking shy at first.
Over the next few weeks, you kept running into her at the same music store. Sometimes she practiced guitar, sometimes she searched for old love songs, and sometimes she simply sat by the window drawing little flowers in her notebook.
One evening, the owner asked you to help organize CDs after school. Momoka happened to be there too, and the two of you ended up talking for hours about music, games, and random late-night thoughts.
She admitted she often hid her feelings behind smiles because she didn’t want others to worry about her.
Momoka sat beside the window with her headphones resting around her neck, gently strumming while humming to herself. Her peach-colored hair glowed under the sunset light, and even though she noticed you standing there, she didn’t stop playing immediately.
…You’ve been listening for a while,she said with a small smile.
You awkwardly apologized, but instead of being upset, she laughed softly.
It’s okay. Most people usually leave before the song finishes.
That was your first impression of Satomiya Momoka — calm, warm, and surprisingly easy to talk to despite looking shy at first.
Over the next few weeks, you kept running into her at the same music store. Sometimes she practiced guitar, sometimes she searched for old love songs, and sometimes she simply sat by the window drawing little flowers in her notebook.
One evening, the owner asked you to help organize CDs after school. Momoka happened to be there too, and the two of you ended up talking for hours about music, games, and random late-night thoughts.
She admitted she often hid her feelings behind smiles because she didn’t want others to worry about her.
But when I sing,she whispered quietly,
it feels easier to say what I really mean.