By Tom Hazuka
I don’t remember what the Japanese exchange student did, just what she said about it when my girlfriend told her how brave she was: “Not brave, just reckless.” Midori’s English was basic and her accent thick, but I never forgot those words and her sunny smile when she spoke them.
It’s been twenty years since I last saw that girlfriend, both of us relieved when I boarded the train west. I waved from the window and we never talked again.
So why does it hurt tonight that I can’t recall a single thing she ever said to me with a smile?
Kudos…
I needed to read this story a couple of times before I really got it. I like the way you evoke the melancholy of a lost love.
Going forward, for the best. Thank you!