Short Stories and Drabbles

Heat Haze

August 14, 10:55 am, Akihabara, Tokyo, 16

I sit up, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes. The air is still and sluggish, pressing slowly down on me; the fan is spinning solemnly in the corner, but even so, I can feel the layer of sweat sticking my shirt to my shoulders. It's a hot day again, I don't have to look outside to know that the sky is bleached blue and cloudless again, I don't need to look at my phone to know what time it is, and I don't need to hear the doorbell to know she's sitting on the front step again, playing with the broken strap of her pink sandals while she waits. And she will wait, she always does.

We walk side by side down the street, three blocks, the heat pressing down on us and the cicadas singing in the speckled shade under the bushes, out feet scraping on the footpath as Horin park comes into view. There's no one else out here today, we have the park to ourselves as we sit on the swings, she turns to me, her cheeks red from the heat, we'll be burnt by the time we go home, again, but I don't think the thought is even in her head. "I really don't like summer, y'know? Too hot, too dry, and it feels like every day is the same" she throws her head back, her feet leaving the ground as she swings, I don't know how to respond to her, but I wouldn't have to worry about that anyway, it was 10:55 now, It's happening again today.

A cat, sitting on the street corner licking its paw- a squeal of delight, she's running toward the cat, it flees and she follows- a green light, her broken sandal comes undone, she stumbles- a truck rounds the corner, a scream, the cat sits on the far curb, the green shines to red on the pavement. What You see is what you get.

August 14, 8:15 pm, Akihabara, Tokyo, 17

I sit up with a painful gasp, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes again as my chest burns and heaves. the air is still and sluggish, pressing slowly down on me- my head still rings with cicada song, ringing, ringing- the doorbell. She's waiting again- she's always waiting.

We're walking down towards the park, I catch her arm and look ahead, the cat is waiting there on the corner, sleek white body stretched on the baked pavement, almost glowing in the sunlight, dark eyes fixed knowingly on us, it seems to know what I do "let's get ice cream," she doesn't protest as a I tug her towards the Lawson's across the road instead. We sit for a long time eating, by the time we finish it's 10:57, the truck drives past, I breathe a sigh and we walk again.

The afternoon comes and we part ways, I watch her until she is out of sight, today was different.

I still wish I could have kept believing that. But I go home and I turn on the TV, the news chimes out at me tauntingly.

The world always keeps turning around us, and things happen, things like the Man down the street who fled from the police after attacking his wife, armed with a kitchen knife, she was just coming around the last corner near her house, the report made my blood run cold and my hands shake. What you see is what you get.

August 14, 4:15 pm, 43

She isn't waiting on the doorstep when I scrub the nightmare from my eyes this time. Looking around the room and breathing in the heavy air, I leave the house at twelve to look for her, in all the usual places: the park, the corner store, her house, even the tourist trap where she likes to look at the figurines, even the school though there are no classes to attend and no detentions to be had.

They find her in the Kanda River five blocks south with mud in her lungs and a drowned duckling in her hand, What you see is what you get.

August 14, 10:02 am, 64

The air feels heavier now, I have to get out of the house. I stagger as I try to pull on my shoes, a knot has settled in my stomach, she's not here again today, that always makes me uneasy, I could only imagine what had happened this time to take her away.