Do Not Count the One Sitting on the Last Chair in the Gym Storage Room

Our school gym storage room is at the edge of the field.

You go in through the side door of the gym, pass the narrow hallway behind the stage, and then you reach it. During the day, it is just a storage room. Basketballs, volleyballs, folding chairs, old mats, and flags from sports day are piled inside. The smell of balls and dust mixes together, and when you open the door, the air inside feels a little damp.

During P.E. class, it is not scary.

Someone complains that the soccer ball has no air. Someone reaches for the basketball first. Students in P.E. uniforms stand in front of the storage room with their pant cuffs rolled up. There is always someone who sits on a mat and gets scolded by the teacher.

But after school, it feels different.

When the gym lights are off and there is no sound of a ball being kicked from the field, the inside of the storage room is almost impossible to see. Even if you turn on the switch by the door, the light does not reach all the way in. Behind the ball baskets, between the mats, under the pile of folding chairs, it is dark even during the day.

The story usually begins from somewhere inside that storage room.

In the literature club notebook, it was written l