Part 2 The translator - Glimpse II

The man in a trench coat had left the wood floor room, his head reached so tall his hat was almost knocked of his head by the upper door frame. All that were left were the two.

Though she was small in stature she was very vicious and angry, but you wouldn’t notice that at first, she always threatened calmly. Fortunately, she too disappeared when not observed directly.

The walls were all white but the twilight creeping in through the windows gave them a perverse salmon colored tint. All that was left now was the empty room and the young woman. The flower pots at the windows needed to be watered and so she watered them, feeding the festering mushrooms, the slime seem to engorge when touching the water, bubbles forming at the surface as wretched air escaped the pots.

The room was square in the back where the door had been and with a big wide octagonal extrusion in the front, covered in windows and window silts. Outside a field laid sterile as a cloudy autumn merged with a sunny spring toward the back of the house, you could barely see the promise of freshness hidden behind there. And it looked as though a summer shower was in the sky, with the sun hiding just behind the house, just out of reach and out of sight. Only a few rays barely reaching to the front.

She tried to look for the sun and avoid the dark gloomy horizon. A grove of dead trees was to her left as she looked out the windows. They seemed safer than the pots she had to tend to.

Waiting was all she could do so she did, watching the slow movement of the clouds, always at the brink of rain, dancing in front of a sun that never seem to want to set.

After some time passed a liver colored rose had bloomed from the festering; black of stem and black of thorns, it drank any light that touched its spines. And so, tears rolled of her cheeks because she knew she would fall again.

This time she awoke safely in her bed, her head hung heavily. She washed her teeth and face, then went downstairs for breakfast. She was very early due to the jet lag, yet the food was already set. Only other soul she saw there was a hispanic man, probably suffering from jet lag as well, she assumed.

She had come to that hot spring spa at the recommendation of her therapist, though it had told her not to go alone, “a person like herself should not be left alone”, still she needed some alone time desperately, she liked her own company and was in no mood to entertain and please anyone, she was determined to be a lazy and rude ass, for the duration of her mini vacation and the japanese were one of the most polite people in the world in her opinion, the ideal place to be a brat.

She always loved coming back, though she wished the expedition was more affordable, she always felt a calling back that intensified with the years, she was addicted to the calmness, the quiet solitude of the many nooks and crannies scattered across the country. “One could get lost here and escape it all”, she thought.

After finishing her plate, she took a cup of tea and miniature syrup covered pancake with her to the veranda, and to her surprise the man was already there writing away among piles of notebooks and papers. “Who writes on paper these days” she said to herself in amusement, then looked at his shoes which were normal, his face was hairy though, and everything was topped with the dreaded man bun. “He’s definitely a weirdo” she thought.

“A latino writer in the mysterious far east, that’s a decent start for an adult romance book, all it’s missing is a snow in, too bad it’s October.” She jested to herself, watching him with the corner of her eye, and he didn’t seem to notice her standing two tables away from him.