[the creaking of bedsprings. Paper fluttering to the floor]
They don't work.
['thud'. a pen drops on wood and rolls away. His voice is quiet when he speaks.]
They don't work at all. Not against this.
[silence, the sound of breathing. A cardboard box is tapped, and seconds later there is the strike of a match. Haruka exhales. The nicotine does nothing for his headache, but there is small comfort in old habits. Another long silence.]
All dreams are connected, whether or not they have happened in the past, or if they have yet to happen in the future. Or if they have no basis in reality.
But...
[the bed creaks again as he shifts to lean against the wall behind him. He's tired.]
This dream. I hope it does not come to pass.
[filtered to Shizuka and Watanuki]
Are the two of you well?