Prelude 1
It was only just a few words I needed to send, yet, it took a rather long time to do so.
As I dilly-dallied in the boisterous crowd at the front of the station, the warm evening sun sank below the horizon of the sea, and my exposed fingers grew numb and cold to the touch.
I gripped my cellphone in my hands. If the time displayed was accurate, it had been only an hour and fifteen minutes since I had left the school. My eyes were glued to the screen. But I found myself letting out a shallow sigh for every minute increment of the clock.
Before long, the lights of the streets and various stores began to gleam brilliantly, along with the disappearance of uniform-clad students, replaced, instead, by an increasing number of people in their business suits.
I moved my stiff fingers to the screen of my cellphone, carefully inputting one character after the other in the unfamiliar messenger application, carefully confirming each one. Upon finishing, I pressed my finger against the icon of the paper airplane with a strength so weak that made me question whether I truly had pressed it or not, the hope of the message never getting sent plaguing my thoughts all the meanwhile.
But the contents of my message were immediately displayed, only the following words typed in, "Can we meet?" There was no meaning to a mere three words. But I was sure she'd still be able to notice my intentions.
I looked at the message that took me so long to send. As I pondered if a minute, or two minutes, had passed, the displayed time continued to stay static, never changing.
It was then I remembered being taught how to recall a sent message. My finger moved on its own, but it ultimately never touched the screen. If I wasn't mistaken, the recipient would be informed if a message was recalled. Knowing her, she would've seen that, and contacted me. Either way, the result would've been the same.
While stuck in thought, the screen was updated with a "seen" message. A few seconds later, a reply came in. All it contained was that she'd be on her way, asking nothing of my reasons, whereabouts, or anything. I unknowingly smiled as I read the message full of her usual cheerfulness. I then sent a corresponding message to relay my current location that wasn't too far from her home, a distance that shouldn't take too long to cover.
As I waited, I closed my eyes, and strained my ears to the many surrounding sounds: the rustling of leaves, the departure bell of the trains, the engine roars of automobiles, the hawkers of izakaya bars[1], the leaking BGM from the shopping mall, the voices of passing people, and the playing melody of the pedestrian crossing[2]. And in that pool of sounds was the occasional sound of my trembling sighs. Soon enough, I could hear her footsteps. Initially light and noisy like that of a polka dance, it transitioned to a serene waltz, and eventually stopped.
Now, what should I talk about? How much should I talk about? I slowly opened my eyes, and looked at her as she stood before me. She wore a thick trench coat with an open knitted shoulder and cuffed jeans. Though rough in appearance, it was well-suited for someone as energetic as her. On the other hand, the muffler that loosely wrapped around her showed a glimpse of the tenderness a girl would have. I truly believed she was an adorable and charming person.
"Good evening."
She smiled to my greeting, and nodded, her hair, tied into a single bun, fluttering. It looked like she had run over as she continued to gasp for air. Although she had responded to me, she wasn't quite able to form any coherent words with her voice. She lightly fanned her face, and then removed her muffler.
In watching her, it made me realize that this season was over.
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