Villainess’s Sweet Everyday

"Dear Marikana, how about Mikan?

"Oh, why do you have such a thing?

"I just got it from a woman who was a passenger."

I'll take it.

Receive and correct the twilight sphere, feel invisible irregularities with your hand, and rotate as you roll with your palm. When I push it with my finger, it is elastic and looks like marshmallows. I ate minced rice, peeling off the skin, one room at a time, carefully trimmed.

Mikan's sourness punctured his tongue, rushed through his mouth like a ripple, and thought he had reached the cerebral spinal cord. His stomach clapped, and some light came out on his face. I tore off one or two of the white muscles of the chamber, and saw Mikan's pale resistance somewhere as a resistance to human death, and made him think of the beauty of man. I quickly perceived that there was something about buses that drove safely around the city avoiding people and carriages. I feel the sound of the handrail shaking like a wind chime, like the sound of the wind, and I feel faced with the change of seasons.