All the Little Things That Make Up a Memory.

Watanuki serves Yuuko the tea she asked for - Earl gray with a twist and just a lump of sugar, despite the fact that she doesn't like it, from what he has gathered - in a fancy china that has soft sakura petals painstakingly painted over it and that Watanuki thinks quite possibly costs more than his whole apartment and some oatmeal cookies she asked him to do. She also asks for two cups for the tea, so Watanuki is almost expecting for one of Yuuko's costumers to drop by.

It starts snowing early that day. By 4:00 pm it has stopped, but the garden is covered in white, a winter wonderland with snow almost blindingly white. Yuuko has finished her tea but she's still sitting there. The other cup remains untouched; no client nor spirit nor nothing has interrupted the quiet of the house. Mokona stays nearby, but even the energetic ball of fluff seems quiet. Even the girls just sit by the wall, holding hands. Somehow, Watanuki doesn't dare ask, almost as if something was holding him.

When the sun starts setting, snow starts to fall again. Yuuko gives a small smile and picks up Mokona, who has fallen asleep against her, and stands up. The butterflies of her kimono seem to trail after her when she walks out of the room. Watanuki is about to ask Moro and Maru if they have any idea of what today was about when a shimmer catches his attention. The spirit of a man around his forty sits at the other side where Yuuko was, near the untouched - and by now cold - tea, a soft smile over his face as he turns to look towards him. His eyes are so very blue behind his glasses, but then he moves a finger against his lips softly, the smile still there, and disappears.

Watanuki takes the cookies back to the kitchen. The tea, however, remains untouched for the night. Somehow, it didn't seem right to throw it away.

When he gets to work the next day, there's nothing there.