Episode 9: The Handkerchief’s Whereabouts

Staying at home today feels suffocating.

The household seems to go about their lives avoiding me. When was the last time I ate my mother’s cooking?

Ever since my parents lost interest in me, I’m given only enough pocket money each month to scrape by and the right to occupy the house.

We never eat meals together.

　Trying to cook in the kitchen would disturb the family, so I generally buy my meals. I time my laundry and baths carefully.

Now, with nothing to do, I wrapped a thick coat and scarf around me and went outside.

Though it was cold, sitting on a bench in the nearby park and zoning out was easier than being in that suffocating house.

The park near my house is a hidden gem, rarely crowded.

　For me, it’s the perfect spot.

But today, someone was already occupying my perfect spot.

Thinking how unusual that was, I resigned myself to going home. But then I noticed the girl sitting on my usual bench was dressed far too lightly for the dead of winter. What’s more, it was bitterly cold today, with snow threatening to fall.

Drawn closer, I could see even from a distance that her face was deathly pale, as if she might die any moment.

　The thought of being told someone had died in my favourite spot the very next day would surely make it a less comfortable place to be.

Wanting to avoid that, I spoke up.

“Um, that’s my usual spot, actually…”

Even to me, it sounded shockingly cold. But I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and those words just came out.

Startled, she lifted her face and looked at me.

　A single tear rolled down her cheek, followed by a torrent of tears.

Had my words been too cold, causing this? I regretted speaking up. Yet I couldn’t just leave her like this, so I searched around me for something.

But I’d only come to the park to kill time, so I had nothing much. The only thing that might wipe her tears was a handkerchief.

I handed her the handkerchief from my pocket. That handkerchief was one I always kept close. My sister had made it for me when we were still close.

Part of me couldn’t bring myself to discard those memories.

But keeping it wouldn’t change anything now, and it felt meaningless. Perhaps it would be better to give it to a stranger and forget the memory altogether.

After handing over the handkerchief, I felt embarrassed and decided to leave.

“I don’t need that, so I’ll give it to you.”

　Why did she cry? Was it my fault? Muttering such complaints to myself, I decided to head home.

A buzzing sound, piercing my head, gave me a sense of discomfort. Ignoring it did nothing; it just kept ringing.

I turned off the irritating alarm and sat up.

A dream from my junior high school days.

I hadn’t remembered it because nothing particularly stood out, but I had indeed given Endo-san the handkerchief. Having given it to her myself, yet not remembering it – how very typical of me.

The Endo-san I met in junior high and the Endo-san of today are quite different in image, so I hadn’t recognised her at all. But whether I had met her or not, the present situation wouldn’t change.

With mid-term exams approaching, today would be another ordinary day.

May it be a peaceful one.