Her mother was clutching a handkerchief, and Kokoro hoped she hadn’t been crying.

IF SHE LEFT THE TV on, she would end up watching it.

And if she did, she’d feel she’d accomplished something, even though she’d wasted the entire day.

Even if she was watching a programme with a plot, a drama for instance, she realized that most of the time she couldn’t recall the story. What am I doing? she’d wonder, and suddenly find the day drawing to a close.

On the screen they were interviewing a housewife on the street, and when she casually made the comment that she was out ‘While the kids are at school,’ Kokoro felt like this was a barbed rebuke directed straight at her.

KOKORO’S HOMEROOM TEACHER AT Yukishina No.5, Mr Ida, was a young man, who still stopped by their house to check on her from time to time. Sometimes Kokoro would come downstairs to see him, sometimes not. ‘Mr Ida’s here,’ Kokoro’s mum would announce. ‘Do you want to see him?’

Kokoro knew she really should talk to him, but on days when she told her mother she didn’t want to, her mother never got upset. ‘All right, I’ll talk to him today,’ she’d say, and show him into their living room.

‘Today’s really not a good day for her …’ her mother would apologize, and Mr Ida would say, ‘That’s fine. No problem at all.’

Kokoro hadn’t expected them to let her get away with it, and it left her confused. She’d always believed she had to do what her teachers, her parents and other adults told her, but how they readily assented to her now made her finally understand: this was a real emergency.

Everyone’s walking on eggshells because of me, she thought.

Occasionally her classmates from elementary school, Satsuki-chan and Sumida-san, would also come by to see how she was doing. They had moved into different classes now, and maybe their teacher had asked them to visit. But Kokoro felt embarrassed about skipping school, and she refused to see these long-time friends when they stopped by.

She really did want to see them – she felt there was so much she wanted to say – but making them feel obliged to come over made her uncomfortable, and that’s how it turned out.

WHILE SHE WAS EATING THE bento, the phone rang. Just as she was wondering whether to get it, it clicked on to the answering machine.

‘Hello? Kokoro? If you’re there, will you pick up?’

Her mother’s voice. Kind and calm. Kokoro hurriedly picked up the phone.

‘Hello?’

‘Kokoro? It’s me.’

Her voice was gentle now, not like this morning. She heard her mother laugh. Where was she? It sounded quiet around her, so maybe she’d stepped out of the office.