Manazuru

The chocolate cake was good, Momo said. We had milk, too. Warm milk. In the shop, I noticed that the back of Momo's neck smelled. It smelled sweet. Her growing up repulses me. It is not her growing that disgusts me, but the growing itself. She casts off unneeded things. So many things. She can't help herself. And so I pity her. Her youth, her ignor

It was eight o'clock on the dot. Somehow, without our knowing it, the alarm had been set. Who did it? Momo laughed again. Her laughter is childlike. I set the pot in the sink, turned the faucet on, filled it to the brim. Let it soak, I thought as I turned the faucet off. There are times, when we do a thing, when we think it in words, and there are

I've heard that when you start to dream of what you have lost, it means the hurt is healing.