pass.

Hina clutched the pencil tightly in her hands as she ran down the avenue.  Nightmarish thoughts rushed about in her head as the wind played with her hair: I have to hold onto this tightly or I might drop -- But if I hold onto it too tightly, might I make it sweaty?  I hope the eraser doesn't fall off.  But none of that mattered.  She had to run.  

Peter clutched the player tightly in his hands as he strolled down the avenue.  Nightmarish thoughts rushed about in his head as the wind found no purchase in his buzz cut: I can't sway to this, not out in the open.  But... Tokyo Jihen is on... Blackout... Oh.  Someone save me.  Hina saved him.

"I, I, uh... This is your pencil."  The way it came out of her mouth made it sound like "pensuhhhaa."  Her cheeks flushed.  Don't look at him, just...

"Oh, you're in my chem class!  I'm sorry, you ran all the way to the music labs for that?  That's sweet.  Thanks."  Is what I'd like to say.  Okay, Petey, go.

"Thanks very much."  The way it came out of his mouth made it sound like "verrr muhhhhaaa."  Peter reached out and took the pencil; took the pencil, brushed her hand; brushed her hand, sparked it; sparked it, let go.  The pencil fell with a dull click onto the pavement.

"Um, sorry."

Who said that?