The girl next door is practicing the piano again, and the familiar tones are exactly the last piece I, a lazy person, practiced when I gave up playing the piano in the third grade of junior high school.
The sun was setting outside the window, and I was a little unaccustomed to the dark yellow color.
Suddenly, there was the sound of shattering plates in the kitchen, followed by a flurry of footsteps as I expected. After a while of silence, there was first a very quiet and muffled rustling sound. I tried very hard to hear the intermittent characters. After a long silence, a slap interrupted the peaceful afternoon.