Chapter 5 — Tomorrow

＊ ＊ ＊

She did not come tomorrow.

I arrived earlier than usual.

I sat on the swing with the folded piece of paper in my pocket.

Ten minutes passed.

Then twenty.

A group of younger children took over the slide.

The sun moved lower.

She never appeared.

I told myself she was busy.

The next day, I came back.

Nothing.

On the third day, I stopped sitting on the swing because I wanted to see the gate clearly.

Nothing.

On the fourth, clouds gathered and rain began halfway through the afternoon. I waited under the small roof near the playground until the rain softened.

Nothing.

I did not know where she lived.

That fact had never mattered before.

We had known the important things, or what children thought were the important things: favorite snacks, which playground game was unfair, which songs were good, which teachers were scary, which cloud looked most like a rabbit.

We had special names for each other, nicknames nobody else used.

But I didn't know her address.

I didn't know her family's number.

I wasn't even sure I knew her full name.

The playground had been enough.

Until suddenly it wasn't.

Days became longer than they should have been.

I kept returning.

At first I brought the folded lyrics.

Then I left them at home.

At first I watched the gate every few seconds.

Then only when footsteps approached.

At first I imagined what I would say when she came back.

Eventually I stopped imagining.

One afternoon, I stood outside the gate and looked at the empty swing.

I did not go inside.

I went home.

My sister found me sitting at the table that evening.

She was younger than me, but she had always possessed the irritating ability to notice things I wanted hidden.

“You didn't go to the playground?”

“No.”

She pulled out the chair beside me.

“Why?”

“Didn't feel like it.”

Usually, that would've been enough for her to start guessing.

Did you lose?

Did someone beat you at a game?

Did the girl chase you again?

Instead, she looked at me for a moment.

“Are you okay?”

I almost said yes.

That was the easy answer.

Instead, the words came out before I could stop them.

“I hurt someone again.”

Hina went quiet.

She didn't ask who.

She didn't tease me about the girl.

She simply sat there.

Somehow, that made it harder.

After a while, she pushed the small plate of snacks between us toward me.

“You can have the last one.”

I looked at her.

“You always eat the last one.”

“Not today.”

...

“Thanks.”

She nodded.

That was all.

After that, being careful stopped feeling like fear.

It started feeling like responsibility.

If getting comfortable made me careless, then I wouldn't get that comfortable.

If people could dislike the version of me that forgot to watch himself, I'd keep that version under control.

I could still talk to people.

Laugh with them.

Help them.

Be friendly.

Just—

carefully.

I still wanted friends. 85Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYgP9eRdgA7

I just stopped wanting them close enough to leave a hole when they disappeared.

88.181.249.5

ns88.181.249.5da2