4

He was drunk. He hadn’t intended to drink, actually. But being alone on a Friday night was too unbearable, with the cold and all. He thought he would just drink a cup. But a cup became two, and two became three…as he stumbled out of the restaurant, he had forgotten how many he had drunk. Perhaps he had even forgotten who he was, where he lived, what were his hobbies…

He bumped into someone. A girl. He squinted to see if it was her. It wasn’t. He pushed himself away from her as he staggered on. Suddenly, an absurd thought came to him. Perhaps, of all the places she could have been on a Friday night- at home, at an izakaya, at the theater, she was right here, on this same street he was on- where exactly was he, he didn’t know. He searched the face of any girl he met, hoping to see her face, if not, at least to discover that she was wearing a mask over the face he wanted to see. As he embarked on his futile search, one borne perhaps out of desperation more than anything else, he remembered who he was. It took the memories of a girl to whom he once meant everything. Not anymore.

He found himself at a bus stop. A bus came, and he stumbled aboard, without even knowing where it was headed. As his head hit the cold, glass window, it struck him hard.

She hadn’t promised him anything.