Dream ❄ oo3
Kohane's house would be nice, with the simple yet elegant door and gate, and shrubs and other greenery growing around. 'Would' is the key word there--it's hard to miss the paint splattered over the walls, and graffiti on the fence. In Japanese, they read: "House of the Fake Medium."
Kohane ignores the words as she enters the house, closing the door behind her. There's a bandage wrapped around her head, one on her face, and a few others on her arms. She doesn't pay them any attention either.
The house is rather messy inside, with bags littering the hallway, the mail scattered on the dining room table, with dirty dishes piling up in the sink. Again, Kohane doesn't really notice--she's used to this--and is about to walk up the stairs when the phone rings. She pauses, and it doesn't take long for the answering machine to pick up.
The message that's left is far from pleasant: "Fraud! You should just die! Die!"
If Kohane's bothered by this, she doesn't show it. Her face is as emotionless as before. Instead, she continues up the stairs.
The answering machine's full, anyway.