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From: [email protected] Sent: Saturday, June 8, 2013 1:18 PM To: [email protected] Subject: what happy looks like Sunrises over the harbor. Ice cream on a hot day. The sound of the waves down the street. The way my dog curls up next to me on the couch. Evening strolls. Great movies. Thunderstorms. A good cheeseburger. Fridays. Saturdays. Wednesdays, even. Sticking your toes in the water. Pajama pants. Flip-flops. Swimming. Poetry. The absence of smiley faces in an e-mail. What does it look like to you? ↗
So," he said as we turned onto the main road, the muffler rattling, "I've been thinking." "Yeah?" He nodded. "You really need to go out with me." I blinked. "I'm sorry?" "You know. You, me. A restaurant or movie. Together." He glanced over, shifting gears. "Maybe it's a new concept for you? If so, I'll be happy to walk you through it." "You want to take me to a movie?" I asked. "Well, not really," he said. "What I really want is for you to be my girlfriend. But I thought saying that might scare you off. ↗
I do need that time, though, for Naoko's face to appear. And as the years have passed, the time has grown longer. The sad truth is that what I could recall in five seconds all too needed ten, then thirty, then a full minute-like shadows lengthening at dusk. Someday, I suppose, the shadows will be swallowed up in darkness. There is no way around it: my memory is growing ever more distant from the spot where Naoko used to stand-ever more distant from the spot where my old self used to stand. And nothing but scenery, that view of the meadow in October, returns again and again to me like a symbolic scene in a movie. Each time is appears, it delivers a kick to some part of my mind. "Wake up," it says. "I'm still here. Wake up and think about it. Think about why I'm still here." The kicking never hurts me. There's no pain at all. Just a hollow sound that echoes with each kick. And even that is bound to fade one day. At the Hamburg airport, though, the kicks were longer and harder than usual. Which is why I am writing this book. To think. To understand. It just happens to be the way I'm made. I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them. ↗
I was going, going, gone-like falling off the side of a cliff in the movies-until I managed to find a foothold and stop myself. But who knew how long it would last? That bit of rock or vine always gives out, doesn't it? The only question was when. ↗
Our virus is a lot smarter than the ones you see in zombie movies. It doesn't make its victims stagger around slobbering and moaning so anyone in their right minds would run the other way. It gets you cozying up to people so you cough and sneeze it right into their faces. We just need the vaccine. Then we'll be okay. ↗
I tried not to think of all the horror movies featuring this exact scenario, soon to be followed by an abundance of gratuitous blood and gore. ↗
We need a full coven...nine women...twelve's better. Do you have any friends?" Characters, Aunt Jett and Aunt Frances to character, Sally Owens, from the movie "Practical Magic". ↗
