After the funeral, I stopped by the house where I was born and raised, and spent time with my mother. Whether it was from forcing down all the dishes she'd enthusiastically prepared, or from spending two hours in that dust-covered, cluttered space—I couldn't tell. Either way, the moment I got into Brian's car, I slumped against the backrest.

"Four hours of driving from here..."

"I can drive to Brisbane if you want."

"It's fine. You're tired too. I'll take over partway."

"Alright."

Brian nodded and started the engine. We waved back at my mother, leaning against the front door, and began our drive toward Brisbane. Under the still-bright sky, the bone-dry ground and the trees that had crawled up from it streaked past the window.

My eyes caught by the scenery that should have been familiar, I murmured a word of thanks.

"Thanks for today. It really helped having you come with me."

"Don't mention it. More importantly, why don't you sleep? You were probably just cleaning the whole time at Miriam's house anyway."

"Pretty much. Same as always."

Saying this, I turned my gaze outside again. The view was bright enough to burn my eyes. Beyond the single paved road, a world of reddish-brown earth and trees—fragile-looking yet resilient—spread out before me. When I'd first started living in Brisbane, I sometimes fantasized about driving down this road to return to my hometown.

"...When I'm in Brisbane, I get this urge to impulsively go back to Mom's house and clean it from top to bottom. Sometimes the urge is so overwhelming it's a bit painful."

"You can't stand having the house you lived in be disorganized?"

"No. I don't think of that house as my home anymore. It's just... it hurts to think of Mom living there, surrounded by things that don't matter to her at all."

"...I see."

Brian offered this response, then fell silent for a while. I couldn't help stealing a sideways glance. His handsome profile was rimmed with gold by the light of the now considerably tilted sun. The sight made me suddenly remember the moment I first fell in love.

An after-school classroom.

Back then too, Brian had been lit by the slanting afternoon light, quietly getting ready to go home alone. An unremarkable moment. It was autumn of my final year in primary school, if I remembered right.

Moved by my own memories, I quietly opened my mouth.

"...Actually, I received a message from Grandma. A final wish."

I continued, speaking to Brian as he listened with his eyes still on the road.

"Grandma went out of her way to leave me a letter. Telling me not to grieve her death. She said she planned to come say goodbye to me before going to heaven, but if I was too sad, her voice might not reach me."

A deep shadow fell across Brian's eyes—so deep it showed even from the side.

"She loved you with every bit of kindness she possessed."

"Do you also think this message was Grandma's way of being kind?"

"Yes. I'm truly glad she appeared in your life."

Those words pierced my heart. I looked back through the rear window at Grandma's house, now out of sight.

My hometown, which only hours ago had seemed more beautiful than any scenery I'd ever seen, looked once again like just another boring, ordinary rural town. That achingly beautiful scene must have been nothing more than a momentary illusion, conjured by a passing breeze.

As I left my hometown behind and the road carried us closer to Brisbane, what welled up inside me was a relief that felt strangely like loneliness.