“Turning that thing over. One of humanity’s greatest achievements. We invented
a device that allows everyone to contact us at any moment, then spend our lives trying to escape it.”
Yuki stared at him for a second before laughing.
The man seemed pleased with himself.
“I’m Kenji,” he said. “Retired professor, occasional gardener, and a man who has recently discovered that retirement does not automatically make tomatoes cooperate.”
“Yuki,” she replied.
He nodded toward the empty space a short distance away.
“Would you mind if I sat there? I promise not to lecture you about physics unless you specifically request it.”Learn Physics
“Are you a physics professor?”
“Retired. Which means I can tell people I’m an expert and blame the university if I’m wrong.”
She laughed again, more naturally this time.
Kenji sat down, leaving enough distance between them to make it clear that he was not trying to intrude. He opened his lemonade and offered her the second bottle he had
brought.
At first, their conversation stayed light. They talked about the weather, the beach, and the small restaurants nearby. Kenji made fun of his own terrible sense of direction, explaining that he could once calculate the trajectory of a moving object but still occasionally become lost on the way to a supermarket.
Then, without either of them quite realizing how it happened, the conversation became more personal.
Kenji asked whether Yuki had come to Okinawa for work or for pleasure.
“A little of both,” she answered.
“That’s a very diplomatic answer.”
“I’m trying to relax.”
“Then I recommend avoiding diplomacy. It requires too much energy.”
She smiled, but the expression faded when he asked whether she was enjoying her trip.
Yuki considered giving him the usual answer. She could have said that everything was wonderful and that she was having the time of her life.
Instead, she looked at the
water.
“I’m still trying to remember how to enjoy things without feeling guilty about it.”
Kenji did not immediately respond.
He did not tell her to be positive. He did not explain that other people had it worse. He did not turn her sadness into an opportunity to describe his own accomplishments.
He simply waited.
That silence made it easier for her to continue.
She spoke about the disappointments she had experienced, the pressure she felt to have her life figured out, and the strange loneliness of being surrounded by people while feeling that nobody really knew her.
When she finished, she felt embarrassed.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t usually tell strangers all of that.”
“Good,” Kenji replied.
Yuki blinked.
“Good?”
“It means you have standards. Imagine if you told every stranger your entire life story. We’d never finish buying groceries.”
She laughed despite herself.
Then his expression softened.
“I’ve
lived long enough to know that most people spend an extraordinary amount of time pretending,” he said. “They pretend to be happy, pretend to be successful, pretend not to be frightened. You don’t have to do that with me.”
He paused before adding, “And you don’t have to explain your sadness to earn the right to feel it.”
Something about those words stayed with Yuki.
