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Amamori isn’t her son, but if Harue squints she can pretend. Especially here, in the crowds of a summer festival. It’s not healthy, of course, but it’s a comfort she’s willing to indulge herself in. If that police officer hadn’t failed her, this is where her son would be. In line to scoop a goldfish, licking the coating off of a candy apple. The spell will be broken when Amamori talks, or when he takes a bite of the apple (Suichi would’ve eaten his fill of the coating then handed the slobbery remains to Harue and guiltily announced himself full).
She’s enjoying this evening for more than just that fantasy, though. Richter invited her along tonight and she finds it increasingly difficult to wallow in her sorrow when he’s around. He’s a strange ray of sunshine. Right now, he’s walking back in her direction, holding two containers of takoyaki in one hand. He gets her attention, then he motions to one of the containers, points at her, and mouths, “For you.” Harue puts her hand up to her mouth and chuckles. She doesn’t know why he keeps insisting she come along on these outings with him, but she’s deeply appreciative.