She had carried out this action over and over, so often that each movement was done with procedural swiftness. But while she did, her usual cool expression was temporarily replaced by the look of someone about to pass a carefully chosen present to a special someone with the hope that it will bring them joy. When people choose presents hoping to delight the recipient, they have in mind that special person’s reaction. And as they do, they often find that time has suddenly got away from them.

The woman in the dress was not a particularly fast reader. Despite it being the only thing she did, she would finish a book about once every two days. Kazu would go to the library once a week and borrow a selection of novels. These books weren’t presents, exactly, but for Kazu, supplying them was more than just a “task.”

Until a couple of years ago, the woman in the dress read a novel entitled Lovers, over and over again. One day, Miki remarked, “Doesn’t she get bored reading the same novel?” and presented her own picture book to the woman in the dress. Kazu thought, What if I could please her with a novel I chose?...and that’s what led her to start providing novels in this way.

As always, however, without a care for Kazu’s thoughtfulness, the woman in the dress simply reached out, took the book silently and dropped her eyes to the first page.

The expectation disappeared from Kazu’s expression like sand silently falling in an hourglass.

clang-dong

The doorbell rang, which was unusual because it was past closing time and the Closed sign hung from the door. But Kazu didn’t worry about who it could be. Instead, she casually returned behind the counter and looked toward the entrance. The person who came in was a man with a tanned complexion who might be in his late thirties. Over a black V-neck shirt, he wore a dark brown jacket. His trousers were a similar color, and his shoes were black. He glanced around the café vaguely, with a dull, melancholy expression.

“Hello, welcome,” Kazu greeted him.

“Er, it seems you’re closed now?” he inquired tentatively. That the café was indeed closed was obvious.

“I don’t mind,” Kazu replied, gesturing for him to take a seat at the counter. He sat down as suggested. He seemed exhausted, and his movements were sluggish, as if in slow motion.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Um, no.”

Normally if a customer came into a café after closing and then didn’t want to order anything, it would be disgruntling to a waitress. But Kazu simply accepted the man’s reply without hesitation. “Okay.” She quietly served him a glass of water. “Er...” The man seemed to realize his behavior was a bit strange and grew agitated. “Sorry. On second thoughts, I would like a coffee please.”