Espresso Love (A Dystopian Japan Novel) #Wattys2014

In Between

- In Between -

I had put on my regular glasses and spent a good twenty minutes, half of which, standing in one place, catching my breath and the rest, walking around the vicinity, looking for the brown tabby cat; I had a feeling somehow the cat knew where she'd be. But this time, Shizuka Kaneko didn't reappear. I was afraid that when I wasn't looking one way, she would appear and I would miss it. I was painfully aware that I might be searching too hard, like flipping over all the cushions of a couch, opening every cupboard and looking under the bed for a misplaced object. But I thoroughly examined every angle of my vision anyway, each wall and doorway, behind every parked car, tree and alleyway, each building from ground to roof, as if she could magically blink into existence and have ascended four storeys. It reminded me of doing a see-the-difference puzzle as a child, maybe a "Where's Wally?" Book, or scrutinizing the nonsensical ever-shifting planes of a M.C. Escher piece.

The harder I look for her, the more she evades me. The more I reach for it, the further it recedes. I can almost feel the reality of her, the memories I had of her: her voice, her touch, her warmth, her hair, her face, her eyes, her confidence, her spirit slipping through my fingers, becoming more fragile each passing moment. Maybe it would only come back in the form of a flickering image – such seemed to make sense in this world. I hold my breath for that moment. A glimpse, a shimmer, a disturbance in the air, anything. But nothing happened. The bus had shut its doors and gone. No one passed by or gave pursuit. The brown cat had also left me and departed. I called her name a few times. There is a significant lack of Shizuka.

Without my jacket, it's much colder. It cuts through my shirt like a knife. I can't stand here for much longer, I conclude. The longer I wait, the deeper resignation sinks into my heart. There is a sensation of a widening hole within me, hollow and silent. I try to fill it with a hope of her voice suddenly speaking up behind me. In my head, I hear her ask why I'm still standing around, but I realize it is a feeble attempt. A figment of imagination. This time, I am convinced she had truly disappeared. I am not sure how I can be certain, but I understood. There is a finality, a period at the end of a long sentence.

A single message displays on my phone. An unknown number.

Welcome home.

I save the number and delete it.

I tuck my hands in my pockets and walk towards the Seven Eleven. I need to collect my thoughts. Perhaps a drink would help. They usually have self-serve coffee machines. Nothing as good as something homemade from the woman's coffee shop earlier or a quality franchise but it is probably better than canned coffee. Most people may consider themselves addicted to caffeine in some way. Fatigue settles in or something feels wrong without a cup or two of coffee, but it has never bothered me. Whether or not I have coffee every day, it never really changed anything. It's just something to do, to accompany thought, and something warm in the winter.

Inside the convenient store, it's virtually empty. Even the shelves look out of stock and the tiled floor dusty. A piece of newspaper sits on the ground. No one had bothered to pick it up. There are fluorescent tubes overhead that look weary and reluctant to be there. It's barely enough light to illuminate the place. Towards the back, a steep stack of soft drinks are still in boxes, ready to be shelved. It isn't surprising, seeing that this is a station like the one we had waited at: something in between point A and B. There is really no point of coming here.

At first, I can't make out any sign of the staff but as my eyes adjust to the darker corner of the store, I realize there is a small man who's almost entirely hidden by the counter. He has a bald head, shiny, but it isn't reflective since the lights aren't strong. Apart from his round, bald head, I can't see the rest of his features. He isn't moving. He might be dead for all I know.