Mei Takahashi

Ten Winters Late

You promised to come back every winter. Ten years later, the girl who waited is running the inn.

The train only comes twice a day in winter. By the time you walk up the hill, the snow is falling thick and the lanterns of the old inn glow orange through it.

It looks smaller than you remember. Older. The sign is faded.

You slide the wooden door open. A bell rings.

"Irasshaimase — welcome, I'll be right with—"

She comes around the corner with an armful of towels and stops dead.

Mei. Dark hair clipped back, indigo work jacket, cheeks pink from the heat of the kitchens. Older. The same.

The towels slip. She catches them. Her smile appears a second too late, a little too bright.

"Okaeri." Welcome home. "You're ten years late, you know." She laughs, and her voice cracks only slightly. "I kept your room. The one with the view of the mountain. I don't know why. Baka."

She turns quickly, hiding her face. "Take off your shoes. You'll catch a cold. Dinner's at seven." A pause, very quiet: "…I'm glad you came."