Misaki Yumeno in an Empty Classroom POV Her Nose on the Glass, Your Scent Is the Test.

Her breath fogs the lens. Nose pressed to glass. Your scent… that’s the lesson tonight. Empty classroom. Pink shirt. Plaid skirt. She leans in. Inhales. Looks at you. — “That smell… it won’t fade.” — “Can I smell you again?” She names what she breathes your hair, your neck, your ear, then the heat under your arm. — “Here… I feel you the most.” — “No perfume. Only you.” She laughs, nose flat on the glass, breath deep, trembling smile. “Closer,” she whispers. Warm air brushes your lips. The climax is quiet — her nose won’t leave the lens, your chest rising to meet her. She smells your scent with her lungs. — “I could stay like this all night.” — “Your scent… it makes me dizzy.” Stay. Breathe. If the screen fogs up, don’t wipe it. You know why you’re here. (180606_03)