Like a puppy chasing its own tail. That’s how Momo would describe the icon she’s been staring at every other minute for the past half hour. She lost count of how many times she has pressed the refresh button hoping that a new update would somehow appear on her favorite blog.

Momo doesn’t quite remember when or how she got this invested, but she does vaguely remember encountering the blog when she was looking through the google page results of an obscure show she just recently gotten into. Now normally, people give up searching after the first page of the results. But, if you’re really desperate, maybe two.

She was glad though she went for three because otherwise, she wouldn’t have found this gem. After reading one (very long and detailed) analysis of the show, she decided to check out the rest of the content and found that it was not exactly a review blog. If anything else, it was more like a personal journal, and the review was just the blogger getting into the show as well.

‘Interesting’ Momo had thought to herself.

So she ended up reading another entry, and then another, and before she knew it, she had read everything.

The author wrote in such a way Momo found herself living the blogger’s days in her mind and with what she has read so far, she wouldn’t mind living it for real. It’s weird that she feels like she knows this person so much already, without actually knowing them. Come to think of it, she doesn’t even know the blogger’s name.

What she did know however was that it updated every Saturday night exactly at 7, so for the past 3 weeks, Momo had been anticipating a new update and it never failed. Not until now that is.

“I’m sure they’re just busy. I can check again tomorrow.” Momo told herself as she pushed her desk so that wheels of her chair rolled backwards.

“But maybe just one more time.” she immediately goes back in front of the computer to click refresh.

--

“Sana, can I borrow your lipst-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there and say, not this time.” Sana had put her index finger unto the other Japanese girl’s lips. “Myoui Mina, I love you, you know that. But lipstick does not grow on trees. And I don’t know what lipstick blackhole you happen to have but you’ve somehow managed to lose every