by shukyou (主教)
illustrated by Tamago
He showed up three months after the memorials had ended, which was three months of accepting fate after a little over a year of hope. But hope had been stupid from the beginning, because ships that got lost in the night didn’t have happy endings.
Time and facing facts hadn’t made the house any less empty, though, not with one-third of its inhabitants gone for good. Condolence cards had stopped coming. All the well-wishers’ cookware had been emptied, washed, and returned. Sympathy ribbons from fans had worn away from the fence, with no new ones tied there to replace them. And no one came anymore to visit.