Short Story | The Night When Unread Books Become Clouds

The characters for "Prologue" of a story fell one by one, plip-plop.
I ran to the eaves of a bookstore to take shelter from the rain. No, perhaps I should call it taking shelter from the characters. In any case, I didn't want to catch a cold being pelted by the cold characters of the night.
December is a time when cumulonimbus clouds of unread books are prone to forming. Since everyone is busy during this season, the pile of unread books likely grows.
Speaking of which, I have also taken on too many part-time jobs to pay for tuition and books, so I have a mountain of books I've bought but haven't been able to read.
It's putting the cart before the horse. I want time to read books while eating mandarin oranges under a kotatsu.

"Oh, Kasahara-kun. The shop is closed today, right?"
Koiwa-san, who works at the bookstore, was closing the shutter. The shop she referred to was the taiyaki shop. My workplace.
"I'm on my way back from buying a bento," I said, lightly lifting the plastic bag containing a grilled mackerel bento from Mizuirotei that had a half-price sticker on it.
"You really do love it, don't you."
"Mackerel is good for your health, after all."
"No, I meant about Shirai-chan."
"Even so, is this a passing rain? No, a passing character shower?"
I dodged the question. Shirai-san is the owner of Mizuirotei. Koiwa-san teases me about my pure feelings every chance she gets.
The characters hitting the ground were the same size as those printed in books, small enough to rest on a fingertip.
They made a clattering sound, like hail falling. The scent peculiar to when characters begin to fall enveloped the Shirokori shopping district. It was the smell of old paper.
The translucent characters gathered in the depressions of the asphalt, sparkling in the light of streetlamps and illuminations.
Suddenly, a blue-gray stray cat appeared from an alleyway, shook its body to brush off the characters, and sat down between me and Koiwa-san.

"Here, this is good," Koiwa-san said, handing me a paper cup. The characters continued to fall, plip-plop.
"Won't you be unable to sleep if you drink coffee at night?"
"Just accept someone's kindness in silence. Kasahara-kun, you look pale."
"Oh, this is delicious."
"Right? Egg-warm brew."
"I can't remember foreign words."
"Apparently, they're coffee beans warmed by penguins."
"Aren't you just making things up?"
"For humans, being a bit loose is just right."
"And aren't you in the middle of closing up the shop?"
"What a nice aroma. I'll go brew a cup for myself too."
Raising the shutter that had "Shirokuma Literary Hall" written in large letters, Koiwa-san disappeared into the back of the shop. The cat beside me was staring intently at the plastic bag I was holding.
I placed my coffee on a nearby luggage rack, broke off a piece of the mackerel from my bento with disposable chopsticks, and gave a little to the cat.
The characters for "Epilogue" fell one by one, plip-plop. The characters might stop falling soon.

The two of us drank coffee side by side, and the cat was wolfing down the mackerel.
Watching the falling characters while drinking coffee calmed my mood. My eyes, stagnant from the busyness, were washed by the characters, and the fragrant steam warmed the depths of my chest.
"Unread books are the future," Koiwa-san said, looking up at the cumulonimbus clouds of unread books peeking out from the eaves.
"Aren't you just making things up again?"
"I have never said anything made up in my entire life."
"Wow, that's loose."
"Unread books, you see, you can read them, or you don't have to. That's what's good about them. Stories you don't know yet are just there."
Koiwa-san caught the falling characters in her palm. I tried to imitate her. The coldness of the crisp characters felt pleasant against my palm, which had been warmed by the coffee.
"You don't have to rush, thinking you must read them, you must read them."
The cat, having finished the mackerel, returned to the alleyway without even a glance at me. Freedom is fine, but you could at least say thank you.
The characters for "The End" fell, and the characters stopped. I could see the moon between the clouds of unread books.
Since I am not a cat, I thanked Koiwa-san for the coffee and left Shirokuma Literary Hall. I headed home, making a sound like stepping on frost pillars.
On the way home, I saw several small, translucent square plates in the character puddles.
They are something I often see after the characters have lifted.
I picked up a few and put them in my pocket. I felt their texture with my fingertips.
The "margin" after a story ends was as warm as coffee.

A one-shot short story set in the same world