Irradiation | Awai Palm-sized Story Collection 10 | Pochon | Polar Bear Literature Club (On a Receipt)
A small sound that fell in a room for one brought back my mother's voice. It is a short story like that.
A receipt reflects your health, you know.
From the back of a drawer, a nostalgic handwriting emerged.
Neat characters written on stationery featuring a black cat silhouette.
It was a letter that arrived from my mother when I first started living alone.
I can recite the following sentences even with my eyes closed.
Because I traced them with my fingers many times during nights living alone.
Keep them for a month and check them.
Make sure your food choices aren't biased.
Continue eating a balanced diet.
I am rooting for your new beginning.
You will always be my daughter.
"Plop"
From the small sink, I hear the sound of water splashing.
Suddenly, it echoes in the room for one.
I look for a receipt in my wallet, but I can't find one. That's when I finally realized.
Lately, I always just finish with a "beep." So, I don't have any left on hand.
What I took out of the convenience store bag was just soup heated in the microwave and a green salad where the nutritional information numbers stood out.
My family's nikujaga (meat and potato stew) used ground meat.
The sweetness of the meat soaked into the potatoes.
The taste of my mother's cooking, which I can no longer eat, suddenly comes back to me.
Since then, spring has arrived quietly for the umpteenth time.
Today, I am leaving this room with a positive outlook.
The preparations for that are mostly finished. My belongings for living alone aren't that many, but there were far more things I couldn't pack away.
In the corner of the room, a scrap of paper with faded letters was rolling around. I hesitated for a moment as I was about to bundle the strip of paper into the trash.
Even though she was someone who nagged about family health until the very end. My mother's exasperated face comes to mind.
I still wanted to remain a child for a little longer.
In the next town, I'll try to make sure to accept the receipt.
"Plop"
I closed the door behind me.
A receipt, while seeming like just a scrap of paper,
I think it is like a mirror that quietly reflects a person's life and memories.
This was a short story revolving around a letter from my mother and a single receipt.
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