Oniisan… Ohitori Desu Ka? [work] Today

I looked at her again. The Band-Aid. The broken sandal strap. The knapsack with a faded character patch— “Yume” —Dream.

She held up her other hand. A small plastic bag, crumpled at the edges. She offered me a piece. Rice cracker, slightly stale. I took it. oniisan… ohitori desu ka?

I walked down the mountain that night. I called my mother from the train station payphone—old-fashioned, but my phone was still on the kitchen table. She picked up on the first ring. I looked at her again