"The Person Next to Me" Season I(小説「となりのひと」英語版)

 

"The Person Next to Me" Season I

"Today, taking my Silver Pass as my companion, I went on an aimless bus trip around Tokyo. I wonder what kind of lives the strangers sitting next to me have led? This is a small story of a certain old man, including a slightly luxurious journey home. "

◆ Prologue

Who is the person sitting next to me?

A stranger sharing a swaying bus seat, sitting opposite on a train, or brushing shoulders in the hustle and bustle. In a fleeting moment, such rambling questions cross my mind.

Are they from the same generation as me? Where is the home they return to, and what kind of life are they weaving? Are they living a carefree, solitary life, or are they waiting for someone to come home?

◇

I smile to myself while gazing at my own face reflected in the window glass.

People around me might think I'm a "weird person." Or perhaps they are avoiding me, thinking I'm a creepy old man.

Well, it doesn't matter. Just like the people around me, I simply exist here, being a part of the flowing scenery. What could possibly be wrong with that?

◆ Chapter 1: At the Bus Stop

From a peaceful suburban town to the grand metropolis of Tokyo. It will be a somewhat long journey, but there is no need to rush.

Buses take time, but you don't have to go up and down stairs every time you transfer. For my legs, which are no longer as strong as they were in my youth, the gentleness of a bus, requiring me to climb only a few steps, truly touches my heart.

Besides, once you enter the Tokyo metropolitan ward area, there is no need to fumble for coins in your wallet. Though they don't run as frequently as trains, for me, a bus is the best companion I could ask for.

◇

The time spent waiting for the bus is also a pleasure in itself.

On a journey of transfers, various people come to sit next to you. During the daytime on a weekday, it is rare to sit next to young people; mostly, people of my generation or the elderly become my fellow travelers.

Conversations rarely occur; it is simply a time of silence where we mutually surrender to the vibrations of the bus.

That is when my bad habit acts up. To kill time, my internal "neighbor observation" begins. I mean no harm. It is simply an old man's interest and boundless curiosity.

◇

I love traveling. Specifically, small trips that cost no money: "Silver Pass Journeys."

In Tokyo, once you cross the hill of seventy years of age, you can obtain this magical pass for a minimal fee. It covers privately operated buses, Toei buses, the Toei subway, and the Toden Arakawa Line running within Tokyo.

With a few exceptions, it is a free pass that allows you to freely navigate the public transportation network that spreads like capillaries throughout Tokyo.

More than anything, I love taking this and traveling without a destination. Unseen scenery that satisfies my endless curiosity. The colors and smells of a town I step into for the first time.

And the unspoken, once-in-a-lifetime encounters with the people sitting next to me. I irresistibly love journeys that hold such modest possibilities.

Now, it's the scheduled time. The sound of an engine is approaching from the distance. Let's board the bus.

◆ Chapter 2: Boarding the Bus

This is the western edge of Tokyo where Toei buses run. From this bus stop, whose name I don't even know, today's small bus journey begins.

Looking at the timetable at the stop, the column for the next bus stop is noticeably blank. It is, so to speak, "a bus stop where no buses come." Numbers are engraved only for a few slots in the morning and evening.

Naturally, I don't have the courage to start a journey from there. It stimulates my imagination as to what kind of people use it, but I'll skip the adventure for today.

◇

With a pssshh sound, the bus opened its doors. I am the only passenger. It is a luxurious "chartered" state.

The engine roars, and we depart. Truth be told, I don't really know our destination.

I boarded the bus without checking, assuming I could just listen to the in-car announcements. Where is this silver box trying to take me?

The bus seems to be heading east. The automated announcements have started, but perhaps because of the driver's mask, his voice is muffled and I can't catch it well...

◇

Eventually, we arrived at the next stop. I looked out the window to see if there were any passengers, and a pair of elderly women were waiting.

As soon as they boarded, they became completely engrossed in chatting loudly. They made no move to sit down. It's too dangerous to start driving like this, isn't it?

Unable to simply watch, the driver raised his voice slightly over the microphone to encourage them to take a seat. Waiting for the two to finally sit down, the bus began to move again.

Carrying my anxiety about the unknown destination, the previously silent bus interior suddenly transformed into a lively social gathering place.

◇

Guessing from the content of the conversation echoing through the bus, their rough strategy seems to be killing time drinking coffee at a fast-food restaurant somewhere after this, waiting for the supermarket to open.

Even without trying to listen, their loud voices strike my eardrums. Convincing myself that they must be hard of hearing, I once again strain my ears to catch the difficult-to-hear destination announcement.

...However, the crucial announcement has yet to come.

◇

It is the time of day past the morning rush hour. Carrying only me and the lively pair, the bus speeds down the main avenue.

We pass stop after stop where no one is waiting. In these suburbs, life probably wouldn't function without a car.

The passengers are mostly elderly people who have surrendered their driver's licenses. At this awkward time of day, it seems no new passengers will board.

◇

The automated voice in the bus began announcing Hakonegasaki Station on the Hachiko Line.

Since it's a station, there should be people. Many people will board, bringing life to the deserted bus, and my "neighbor observation" will begin in earnest—my heart swells with such expectations.

The bus slides into the rotary in front of the station... but no one is there. Not a single soul is waiting for the bus.

As if it were a matter of course, the bus passes without stopping, and my expectations are magnificently betrayed. The disappointing scenery in front of the station flows past the window.

On this bus to an unknown destination, is it impossible to see the human drama I envisioned?

◇

Just as I was about to give up, the bus slowed down. Outside the window, I can see a large crowd of people.

This appears to be in front of a large city facility. Look, boarding passengers have formed a line waiting for the bus to arrive.

When the doors opened with a pssshh, people flooded in. The interior suddenly became bustling. The seat next to me is still empty, but the surrounding area is filled with a large crowd of passengers.

Now, it's my turn. I "prick up my ears" and get my "imagination ready." I can feel my heart pounding. What a strange hobby I have, even if I do say so myself.

◇

From all directions, voices fly to my seat. I capture with my ears the raw conversations among the passengers.

"...You know, that new supermarket near the bus stop, it's amazing. The vegetables are so cheap." "Speaking of which, did you hear they're building a new train line across town?" "Oh my, I heard there was an incident nearby. There were a lot of police officers earlier."

It might be rude to say, but it's just idle gossip. A comfortable atmosphere fills the bus, as if an old people's gathering or a neighborhood chat by the well had simply relocated here.

◇

Because of the bustle, the crucial in-car announcements are drowned out. Where on earth is this bus heading?

The voices of the old women, which I had thought were incredibly loud just moments ago, are now buried in this noise and sound like whispers.

The bus swayed greatly and stopped. A large number of passengers stood up all at once, preparing to get off. It seems this is a transfer station with connections to trains.

◇

Passengers spewing out, passengers being sucked in. Not quite fifty-fifty, but passengers holding shopping bags stuffed to bursting boarded in their place.

From the bags, I can catch glimpses of the green heads of green onions and packages with discount stickers. This transfer station seems to be in a town with a lively shopping street. The voices change to those reporting battle results: "That was cheap," "This was cheap too."

The bus departs carrying a different scent of daily life—the smell of frying oil and vegetables covered in dirt.

◇

In the slightly quieted bus, a clear, mechanical destination announcement finally echoed. "This bus is bound for Hana-Koganei Station on the Seibu Shinjuku Line."

I see. It means we had been going straight east along Ome Kaido from around the Ome area.

I sank deeply into my seat and sighed in relief. Once I know the destination, there is no need to panic or worry. My fear of being taken away to an unknown land vanished.

◇

It wasn't something to worry about in the first place, but still, not knowing where you are going makes you feel somewhat restless.

To my ears, now free of anxiety, even more sounds jump in than before. Arbitrary scenes float into my mind and fade away.

A bustling supermarket in the basement of a large multi-tenant building in front of a station. People diving into that building and rushing down to the basement.

Snatching up a discount flyer waiting at the bottom of the escalator, they hurry to the sales floor looking for the bargain items they want. The place is packed with a large number of customers, and you can even feel the heat.

The sight of a housewife rushing to another section because she couldn't get the item she wanted... Such a lively town shopping center is likely serving as a place for life and communication for these "people next to me" right now.

While projecting such scenes onto the screen of my imagination, the bus journey continues.

◇

The bus, almost full of passengers holding shopping bags, runs through a town with slightly different scenery than before.

It seems we have transitioned from the peaceful rural landscape to a street lined with traditional houses. It must have once had the charm of an old highway, with private homes and shops standing side by side.

Now, new, large apartments and buildings have been built here and there, creating a townscape that is slowly destroying those vestiges.

The inside of the bus has become so quiet that the previous noise seems like a lie. Even in the old streets, perhaps the residents have changed, and many new people have moved in.

Just as I was thinking this, the bus stopped.

◇

The moment I tried to look out the window to see what station it was, a heavy weight dropped down with a thud right next to me.

It's a young woman. Radiating a strong, sweet scent, she suddenly plopped herself down. She shows no signs of hesitation or modesty.

Well, there is no need to do so, but because it was so abrupt, I must have looked like a pigeon that had been shot with a peashooter.

I had arbitrarily assumed that she would hate sitting next to an old geezer like me and wouldn't go out of her way to do so, which made me all the more surprised.

◇

The "person next to me" seems to be listening to music with earphones in. I can't hear what kind of music it is, but her body is faintly keeping rhythm. It's a subtle shaking, different from the swaying of the bus.

To my further surprise, she deftly started putting on makeup while swaying! She took a compact out of a small pouch and began dabbing her face with a puff.

Did she oversleep, or is this her daily routine? Even so, the smell of her perfume is strong. It stings the back of my nose.

◇

There is no conversation, of course, but my imagination regarding the "person next to me," who communicates through her scent, begins on its own in my head.

...Is this wandering into the territory of a pervert after all? No, well, it's fine. I'm not harming anyone. Making such a convenient judgment for myself, I decided to continue my delusions.

◇

The bus stopped. It looks like a major bus stop. The passengers are piling out. The woman in her twenties next to me, still in the middle of doing her makeup, also hastily threw her tools into her bag and stood up.

This seems to be Shin-Kodaira Station on the JR Musashino Line. I couldn't hear the in-car announcement, but I guess so from the scenery outside the window and the flow of people.

They will probably transfer at this station and head to Kokubunji on the JR Chuo Line. With that, about half of the passengers were spit out of the bus. No passengers boarded to replace them. The bus became lighter and departed.

◇

The interior is still noisy. We seem to be moving along a congested road, and every time we start and stop, our bodies are shaken. The driver is announcing over and over, "Please hold onto the handrails."

Is it because of the dangerous road conditions, or is he trying to quiet down the unsettled bus interior? The bus stopped. I now realized that the passengers getting off here were the ones making a commotion in front of the doors.

It is Ome-Kaido Station on the Seibu Tamako Line. Because schools, companies, and various facilities are scattered along this line, people get on and off frequently.

The turnover of passengers is too fast, so my hobby of observing is not making much progress. It can't be helped, but I feel a little lonely, as if I've been left behind.

◇

The bus departed. Most of the passengers got off, leaving only a few passengers, including me, inside. No new passengers are getting on. It seems the final stop is approaching.

For a final bout of "listening in," I try my best to strain my ears. An elderly couple sitting in the front approached the driver's seat while waiting for a traffic light and began talking to the driver. While worrying if this is safe on a moving bus, I concentrate so as not to miss their conversation.

◇

The couple, who look to be about my age, are throwing a rapid-fire series of questions at the driver—exactly the kind of questions I had wanted to know initially: how far the bus goes, that they want to go towards Shinjuku, and if there is a connecting bus from the final stop.

Even though it wasn't a bus stop, the bus came to a complete halt. It seems the driver is taking the time to safely check for this elderly couple.

What an admirable driver. It's not something one can easily do while pressed by a schedule.

◇

After stopping for a while, the elderly couple returned to their seats, looking satisfied. Having gotten the answers they wanted, the two began discussing their actions after getting off.

"Maybe we should have just taken the JR line from the beginning instead of the bus." "But dear, the train has so many stairs and so many people, it's tiring, isn't it?" "That's true, but trains heading into the city center are crowded no matter what time it is."

◇

Yes, even after the rush hour has passed, Tokyo's trains are crowded. One of the reasons is the students. Lately, high school students board in large numbers even after nine o'clock.

What time do their school classes start? I wonder if I'm just an old-fashioned person for worrying about such things. Even if I ask the question, there is no one to give me an answer.

Come to think of it, I remembered there is a high school near my house, and the commuting times vary widely. Some students go at normal times, while others are finally seen heading to school just before eleven o'clock. There must be diverse styles of learning.

◇

Because of this situation, even when the peak rush hour has passed and it's near ten o'clock, the trains are still crowded. This elderly couple might also be the type who chose a leisurely bus trip using their Silver Pass to avoid such crowds. I feel a sense of affinity with them.

Eventually, the bus arrived at the final stop, Hana-Koganei Station on the Seibu Shinjuku Line. It is the end of a long journey. I stood up and decided to get off the bus.

◇

As for the elderly couple from earlier, perhaps having been told by the driver, they seem to be looking for the next bus stop and timetable heading to their destination, checking the bus stop guideboards one by one.

I decided to head in the same direction as them. I don't call out to them, but feeling like a comrade, I walk forward while checking the bus stops in the same way.

It seems there are two bus stops heading toward Shinjuku: one at the North Exit and one at the South Exit of the station. However, thinking about it carefully, if you are heading to Shinjuku, wouldn't it be better to go to Kichijoji from here and then either take the Chuo Line or transfer to another bus?

Alright, let's take the Seibu Bus bound for Kichijoji. There is still time until the next bus. Taking a little stroll in front of the station wouldn't be bad.

◇

I headed for the South Exit, passing through the long connecting passage built over the tracks inside the station.

Although there are two or three bus stops at the South Exit, looking at the timetables, the low frequency of departures and arrivals stands out. Few buses depart from or arrive here; most seem to leave from the main avenue. It's clear that the North Exit has more commercial facilities than the South Exit and serves as the hub of the residents' lives.

Beyond the South Exit, there should be a famous golf course and a vast metropolitan park. I imagine it gets very crowded with holidaymakers on weekends, but on a weekday at this time, few people would go out of their way to get off here.

I retraced my steps and decided to return to the bus stop at the North Exit.

"Seibu Bus Yoshi 64, bound for Kichijoji Station." At that bus stop, I wait for the beginning of my next journey.

Already, four or five previous customers had formed a line. Among them were the figures of that elderly couple. They also seemed to have concluded that this was the right choice.

I don't know why, but a feeling of relief spread through me as if it were my own matter. What kind of encounters are waiting on the bus journey from here on out?

Thinking vaguely about such things, I lined up at the very end of the queue at the bus stop.

◆ Chapter 3: The Wind of Musashino

Eventually, sliding into the rotary was the Seibu Bus "Yoshi 64" bound for Kichijoji Station. With a pssshh, the doors opened, and the passengers waiting in line were sucked in.

I boarded with a slight gap, as if watching over the backs of that elderly couple.

The interior was already quite crowded. After swallowing the passengers from Hana-Koganei Station, all the seats were filled, and there were a few people standing.

Fortunately, I was able to sit down in a single seat towards the back. The elderly couple is sitting side by side in a two-person seat a little further up. Feeling strangely relieved at the sight of their backs, I tucked my Silver Pass away into the depths of my bag again.

◇

As the bus departed, the scenery outside the window gradually changed from the streets lined with traditional houses to a calm landscape with lots of greenery.

After driving for a while, a vast green forest appeared on the right side in our direction of travel. It was Koganei Park, a metropolitan park. Through the gaps in the trees, I catch glimpses of families enjoying a weekday afternoon and people taking leisurely strolls.

This path, where cherry blossoms bloom in full glory in the spring and gets packed with holidaymakers, is now enveloped in the gentle sunlight of early summer.

◇

When I turned my gaze from such a peaceful view from the train window back into the bus, my new "person next to me"—in the seat across the aisle—was a single young man.

His age looked to be in his mid-twenties. Dressed casually in a washed-out shirt and chinos, he was hugging a thick backpack resting on his lap.

His eyes were glued not to a smartphone screen in his hands, but to a paperback book. Speaking of young people these days, the standard sight is for them to continue flicking the screens of their smartphones as soon as they get on the bus. But he is different. The movement of his fingertips turning the paper pages is incredibly careful and calm.

What kind of book is he reading? My bad habit has reared its head again.

◇

The cover is hidden by a book jacket and cannot be seen. However, occasionally, when he turns a page, a slight wrinkle appears between his eyebrows, or his mouth softens into a faint smile.

Could it be a difficult philosophical book? No, that faint smile might mean it's a witty mystery novel or a historical novel full of human warmth.

—He must be an honest young man whose hobby is touring secondhand bookstores in Kichijoji. On his days off, he immerses himself in the world of print like this while swaying on the bus. Sipping coffee at his favorite cafe while absorbing himself in his spoils—secondhand books—is his ultimate moment of bliss.

Building such an arbitrary character profile in my head, I chuckle to myself.

◇

Unlike the previous bus where I almost had to pinch my nose from the strong perfume of the woman next to me, I feel like a faint, clean scent of soap is drifting from this young man. It might be because of my delusion filter that he is a devoted reader, but strangely, it is not uncomfortable.

The bus proceeds through the towns of Musashino, such as Tanashi and Higashi-Fushimi, running parallel to the Seibu Shinjuku Line. Every time it stops at a bus stop, the faces of the passengers change little by little. A housewife returning from shopping, a man looking like a salesman holding a large bag.

Every time people get on and off, I can tell that the air inside the bus also mixes and changes bit by bit.

◇

When I happened to look forward, I saw the figures of that elderly couple.

The old man is vaguely gazing at the scenery flowing outside the window. The old woman is staring intensely at something like a small memo pad in her hands.

Is she checking her shopping list for a department store they will drop by after reaching Shinjuku? Or is it the address of a delicious restaurant they have their eyes on?

I can't hear their conversation, but a gentle atmosphere flows between the two of them—one unique to a married couple who have been together for many years, requiring no words. Somehow, it was like watching a scene from a movie, and I felt just a little bit envious.

◇

From around past Musashiseki, the scenery from the window began to take on a lively energy again.

Tall apartments, cafes with stylish signs, and the pace of the people passing by clearly tell me that we are getting closer to the "city." We are approaching Kichijoji, a town where young people gather.

Corresponding to that, the demographic of the passengers boarding the bus has also become younger. When a group of female university students wearing glamorous clothes got on, it felt as though the interior of the bus suddenly brightened up.

Their joyful laughter echoes through the bus like background music. The young man next to me pays absolutely no attention to such noise, remaining sunken in the world of his paperback book as always. Splendid concentration.

"Next is Kichijoji Station. It is the final stop." The mechanical voice announced the end of this segment of the journey.

The young man who was reading closed his book with a snap and slowly readjusted his backpack. It seems this is his destination as well.

Going completely around a large rotary, the bus arrived at the North Exit of Kichijoji Station. At the same time the doors opened, a stifling city heat and commotion flowed into the bus.

The arcade street where a huge number of people pass by, the blaring music playing from speakers, and the long lines waiting for buses. This small journey that departed from Ome in Okutama has finally reached its turning point, so to speak.

Relying on the handrails, I slowly stood up and got off the bus following behind the young man. Now, to head to Shinjuku from here, I must finally take the JR Chuo Line, or perhaps... no, it is not a hurried journey yet.

I stood still in the middle of the bustle in front of the station and took a deep breath. Kichijoji. Somewhere in a corner of this town, the story of a new "person next to me" must be lurking.

I decided to walk around this town for just a little while before looking for the next bus stop.

◆ Chapter 4: Heading East on Ome Kaido

Kichijoji was filled with its usual vitality.

I tried walking down the arcade street "Sunroad" a little, but the waves of passing people and the various sounds overflowing from the storefronts quickly made my old body give up. I thought I might have a delicious cup of coffee in a small cafe down a back alley, but everywhere had a line of young people waiting for their turn.

Quickly cutting my stroll short, I returned to the station plaza at the North Exit. I track the bus stop guideboards lined up in a row with my eyes one by one.

It is fun to gaze at unknown place names. Suddenly, the words "Kanto Bus (Naka 36) Bound for Nakano Station" caught my eye. It seems to be a route that heads east, passing through Itsukaichi Kaido. Let's take this one.

◇

The interior of the bus I boarded was so calm it made the bustle of Kichijoji from moments ago seem like a lie. The passengers all seemed to be locals, holding shopping bags on their laps or lightly closing their eyes dozing off.

Next to me sat an elderly woman holding a large paper bag. Through the gap in the bag, I can see a vibrantly colored orange box. Is it Western pastries from somewhere?

Suddenly, from that vivid orange color, a memory flashed through my mind: the scenery of terracotta roofs lining the hills of Eze—a small village in the South of France I traveled to decades ago. It seems the pleasant swaying of the bus arbitrarily opened a drawer of memories.

◇

The bus proceeded smoothly and eventually merged onto a large avenue. It is Ome Kaido.

I pressed the stop button here. Going all the way to Nakano wouldn't be bad, but the name of the bus stop tickled my curiosity.

"Suginami Shako-mae" (In front of Suginami Bus Depot).

When I got off the bus, a Toei Bus depot was spread out right there. My Kanto Bus journey ends here.

From here on out, it is once again the territory of the Toei Bus—in other words, the territory where the "Silver Pass" sleeping in my pocket can fully demonstrate its power.

◆ Chapter 5: From Shinjuku to Shibuya, The Never-ending Journey

At the Suginami Shako-mae stop, I wait for the "Shuku 91" bus bound for the West Exit of Shinjuku Station.

Boarding the green and orange vehicle that arrived shortly after, I show the familiar face of the pass to the driver and we nod at each other. This is the true thrill of a Silver Pass journey.

The bus speeds east down Ome Kaido. As we proceed through Shin-Koenji and Nakano-Sakaue, the scenery from the window gradually increases its sense of pressure.

The tranquil sky of Musashino has imperceptibly been cut away by a cluster of huge gray buildings. Eventually, the bus slid into the final stop at the West Exit, right in front of Shinjuku Odakyu HALC.

◇

When I get off the bus, it is completely the dead center of the "big city."

Endless streams of passing people, the sound of car horns, and advertisements playing from giant vision screens. While being slightly overwhelmed by its overwhelming energy, I walked through the underground passage of the West Exit towards the East Exit.

I walk aiming for the luxurious building of Shinjuku Isetan. Having come this far, the standard move would be to take the subway and head home.

However, when I stood in front of Isetan's magnificent show window, a single bus stop appeared before my eyes. "Toei Bus (Ike 86) Bound for Shibuya Station East Exit."

The moment I saw the figures of the people lining up at the stop, a faint desire that had still been smoldering inside me reared its head: "I want to continue the journey." There is no need to end a destinationless bus journey here.

◇

As if drawn in, I boarded the arrived Ike 86 route bus.

Heading south on Meiji Dori, this route runs as if weaving through the forefront of Tokyo's fashion and trends. Outside the window, glamorous streets changing at a dizzying pace flow by: Harajuku, Omotesando.

Sitting next to me was a young couple dressed in trendy clothes. With their lively conversation as background music, I gazed at the city illuminated by the setting sun.

◇

Following its course, the bus arrived at the East Exit of Shibuya Station, the city of youth.

The sun has completely set, and the city is beginning to wear the light of neon signs. This time for sure, today's bus journey is truly over.

A sense of fulfillment, along with a tiny bit of fatigue, slowly crept up from the soles of my feet.

◆ Chapter 6: The Journey Home from the Second-Floor Seat

I certainly don't have the energy left to transfer from route bus to route bus all the way back to Ome in Okutama. I obediently boarded the inner loop of the Yamanote Line from Shibuya Station, heading for Tokyo Station.

The power of the Silver Pass ends here. However, as a conclusion to a long journey, I have prepared a fitting "reward."

◇

The Chuo Line platform at Tokyo Station. My target, waiting for the first departing Ome Special Rapid, is the brand-new double-decker Green Car that has just been introduced.

I board the vehicle that slid in and walk up the spiral staircase to the second-floor seats. It was a slightly special private space, entirely different from a regular commuter train. I sat deeply into a window seat.

◇

The departure bell rings, and the train glides out quietly.

I tilted the reclining seat back slightly and opened the canned beer I had bought at a kiosk in Tokyo Station with a pshh. The cold liquid pleasantly moistens my parched throat.

As we passed through Kanda and Ochanomizu, the scenery outside the window showed a different expression from before.

The streets I had been looking up at from the seats of a route bus all day today, I am now looking down upon. The old brick viaducts and the rich greenery of the outer moat in Yotsuya all looked more three-dimensional and small, like a diorama, from the second-floor seat.

◇

Before long, the train passes through Shinjuku Station.

That bustling crowd where I was walking aimlessly and waiting for a bus in front of Isetan just a few hours ago. I am passing over it, looking down from an elegant seat while tilting my beer. What a sense of superiority, and what a pleasant nostalgia.

Passing Shinjuku, as the train entered an elevated track, a burning sunset spread across the western sky in our direction of travel. The magic hour when the sky turns from madder red to deep blue.

The warm-colored reading lights inside the train began to reflect on the window glass, and my eyes met my own face reflected there.

A strange old man who was enjoying selfishly imagining the lives of the "people next to me." However, the face reflected in the window had an unexpectedly content, good expression.

◇

Passing Tachikawa and entering the Ome Line, the outside of the window was completely enveloped in the darkness of the night.

The backs of the buildings gradually grew shorter, and the lights of Yokota Base flickered in the distance. The smell of the city vanished, and the familiar atmosphere of the mountains began to drift beyond the train window.

By the time the curtain of night had fully fallen, we arrived at Ome Station. The lights of the retro station building gently welcome the end of a long day's journey.

What kind of "person next to me" will I meet tomorrow? Thinking about such rambling things, I slowly went down the stairs and headed for home.