The Songwriter’s Funeral Song
Messages from Different Matters
I gently pushed her off as tears started to pour out of my sockets. I lowered my head to hide my hideous guise. She seemed to wonder why I did such action until she noticed me crying. She held both of my arms and examined my wet, reddish face.
“Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?” There’s a worry in her tone, but I haven’t done anything to wipe her anxiety away. I remained silent.
“Don’t cry! You’re making me cry as well!” Emotions are indeed like viruses. I’ve seen it effective to Mugi. That time, we shared both sorrows, but we have different reasons why we wept.
The ice cream shop of Takuya is located a distance away from the busy road. Pacing a narrow street to the north would invite the passersby with the shop’s innocent and juvenile aura. Only fewer people walk along this street in the late evening. Even though the shop seemed isolated, its exterior is lit like a day. Takuya made every time fair for people, letting them enjoy cold desserts even at night.
Mugi and I were on the sidewalk. Streetlights are like stage lights, highlighting our dramatic moment. A few had noticed our commotion but didn’t bother to nose on.
“Mugi, let me isolate myself just this time. You can come back after Riri’s funeral,” I told her, but she kept shaking her head, indicating a disagreement.
“I have to protect you,” she said. Her eyes were like wet black pebbles, being thrown in my vision. I looked directly at them and smiled a little. “If you want to protect me, give a little distance, okay? Just for now. Will you do that for me?”
It took seconds for her to respond, but managed to make one, “Okay then. Please take care of yourself and wait for me.”
She returned the smile, but much bitter than the beans of Robusta coffee. I have no other discussion to present to her. I wanted her to leave instantly. “I will. Take care as well.”
“I’ll be going back to my apartment now,” she said while wiping her wet cheeks with her hand, “goodbye, Kumori. See you soon.” She made a quick smile before turning her back to me. I watched her walk along the street, ‘til she made a turn on the left. A narrow building hid her behind, making me lose sight of her.
I sighed, realizing my solitude in the cold night. I desired to push her away. I felt like I have to withdraw from people… maybe just for a little time.
I lifted my foot and started to walk back to my apartment. It’s a cold night. August seemed to bid goodbye already. The people that I love left as well. But just like August, I believe that we’ll meet again.
I’ve arrived at my apartment. Lights are turned on as I left them. I put the plastic bag on the table and prepared the pot to reheat the ramen. As I was waiting, I remembered Riri cooking our food. I’m dependent on that time because I’m not good at cooking. I’m not like Riri, but I always wanted to be like her.
“Cloudee, I’m a lily trapped in the dried mud. But I saw you above me. I’m waiting for you to rain. But don’t worry, you don’t have to change yourself for me. I’m finding water with my roots, and the soil will give the reserves for me.”
She said that she’s younger, but that doesn’t mean that she’ll be contingent to the older. She’s working, so she claimed that she can keep herself alive. While, I, who’s cloudy myself, depend on the cycling water and heat to make rain. I’m not a famous singer-songwriter if Mugi didn’t help me. I wouldn’t get through the day without Riri assisting me. But that time, when I’m still playing on the street, made me a piece of something… an awful piece of trash, being ignored all day.
The ramen started to boil. The sound of it united the sound of my weeping. My apartment became a little unnerving because of my echoing whines. The lid of the pot started to have mists on it. Hot air spewed, so I quickly pulled the plug and wiped my tears. It seemed that I overcooked it.
Finally, I stopped crying. I’ve seated in front of the tatami table after preparing the reheated ramen. All that I could hear that time is a deafening silence.
“Thanks for the food,” I said in a lowered voice and started to dig in. The noodle became soft, gooey, and mushed when picked up by chopsticks. They easily break. I made them weak… accidentally.
Realization kept me stirring for a while. Did I make myself weak as well? Or is it just, I’m meant to be weak?
“If I suddenly die, please don’t think that I have killed myself, because I will never do that.”
“I want you to know how it feels. I want people to sympathize with it… because they don’t have the will to understand.”
I am being numb. I only let my ears devour the words of people around, believing that they’re healthy to mine. I do not move if I’m not being told. I’ve been playing my own game but was directed what to do. I’m a loyal one. I am being loyal as if something would give a desirable return.
“What would happen if I’ll follow?”
“Then you’ll have the promised return.”
It was a conversation between an employer and an employee. It didn’t end like that. The employee worked hard for the return, but the promise isn’t returned.
“Therefore, Riri didn’t suicide,” I murmured with my eyes opening wide as I realize that I’ve been moving the wrong piece… no, I’m more likely playing the wrong game.
A moment later, I heard my phone ring. I looked for it and found it on the couch. It was Mugi who’s been calling. I rejected the call, but another followed. For the second time, I pressed the decline button. And after I missed a few calls, text messages popped on my screen.
“If you’re not willing to answer my call, then please just read my messages.
Kumo and Panda are not here in our apartment.
I just arrived. I’m alone here, and it’s pretty dark.
Look, I know you want to be alone this time, but I’m panicking right now. This heck makes me shiver.
Lights are off, and they’re not working. I guess, we have power interruption.
Electric current might resume tomorrow. (T^T)
Dang those two! Are they in your apartment now? (òロó)
They left me here (T^T)
Hey, Kumori! Please reply!
Even in text, you’ll just ignore me? Come on! I need your help! (T^T)
May I go to your apartment? You’re not replying anyways, and I’m getting nervous. I’ll be going now.”
“I thought so,” was the only message I sent to her after her short consecutive text messages.
●○ 葬儀の歌 ○●
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The Songwriter's Funeral Song
Misterio / SuspensoLife, Music Death, Music ○●○● Yuru, the street performer who made it to the top, made a dramatic fall. Something was embedded in her song... the lyrics, the melodies... they were beautiful thunders banging the drums of your ears... Something that'll...
