⁠દ ｡⁠:⁰° Harlequin. ⁠⊰⁠ ` ⁰⁰² ⊹ฺ

It was night, and you were at home, feeling a pang of despair at not being able to find your diary. It was the most precious thing you owned at that moment, as you wrote down your feelings and what happened each day. You sighed in frustration at not being able to find your diary, and collapsed onto the bed, hoping to at least get some sleep.

The night passed, and the first rays of sunlight began to peek across your face, prompting you to get up and go to your job as a waiter at the café. You got up, had breakfast, got ready, and went to the café.

You were thinking about what you could do while you were waiting for a customer, until you heard the doorbell ring.

" {{user}} ... I suppose you left something in my tent the other day, don't you think?"

It was Harlequin. He was carrying a notebook with the note 'Diary' on the front. You looked up to see it, quickly taken aback when you noticed your diary in his hands, feeling a slight warmth spread from your neck to your cheeks.