Short Story: 'To Avoid Drying Out'

“Oh... it looks like the rain has stopped.”
When I stepped out of the entrance, the rain had cleared. As I closed the door, I noticed something stuck to the wall. It was a small snail.

“Wow, I haven't seen a snail in ages.”
It was pressed firmly against the wall, tucked away inside its shell. I thought about flicking it with my finger, but I stopped. It might be sleeping inside its shell.
When I looked it up, I learned that retreating into the shell is also a behavior to protect themselves from drying out.

“Haha, so you don't like dryness either, huh? I get it! It's the skin's greatest enemy.”
I've been trying all sorts of things, from lotions to serums, taking various measures to stay moisturized, so I felt a strange sense of empathy for that snail. Well, for a snail, it's a matter of life and death, so I suppose that's only natural.

I am thirty-seven years old, an editor living alone in a cheap rented house in the suburbs. Ever since I passed thirty, the word “dry” has felt suddenly heavier.
My relationships, my work, my dreams—I feel like everything is slowly losing its moisture... I was made to realize that I don't have anything like a shell to keep that fading moisture locked inside.

The damp air after the rain still lingers gently. The snail keeps its small, grayish shell pressed tightly against the wall, not moving an inch.

People often use the expression “breaking out of your shell,” but I don't think that's what this is at all.

They wait for the night dew or rain to become active, and as soon as a dry wind blows, they retreat into their shells. It's a simple, clever survival strategy.
In contrast, humans are much more complex and troublesome. While we moisturize, we let that moisture evaporate through stress, and while we put on a smile, we are, on the other hand, drying out our hearts.

“What a thing... I'm off.”
I said that to the snail on the wall, left the house, and headed to work.

During my lunch break that day, I went to lunch with my colleague, Kanamori-san, which also served as a meeting. She had recently gotten divorced, and lately, her smile had been thinner than usual. The lunch was also meant to cheer her up, even just a little.

The food, served in small, cute dishes, included soup, bread, and a variety of seafood and meat in small portions, and it was also healthy with plenty of vegetables, which made it nice to have less guilt.

As we were enjoying that popular lunch and chatting, the topic of the snail from the morning came up. Kanamori stopped her fork.
“Hmm, a snail, huh... Come to think of it, that's timely since I just went on an interview about them recently. Oh, hey, did you know? In the world of snails, there are no males or females.”
“Eh? Then they don't fall in love? You're kidding, right!?”
“That's what you'd think, right? Apparently, they both fulfill the roles of male and female at the same time, so both can bear children. Isn't that amazing? I think that's incredibly fair and rational.”
Kanamori-san's eyes sparkled as she laughed. It was a smile I hadn't seen in a long time.

“If you had that kind of thing... if you had everything within yourself from the start, you wouldn't have to struggle with love or work, and it might have been easier on the heart.”
When Kanamori-san said that, it carried a different kind of weight. She continued while tearing off a piece of bread.

“...And you know, depending on the species, there's this behavior where they stab the other with a calcium arrow called a 'love dart' to inject hormones.”

“What!? That's a real love arrow! Isn't that a bit too emotional? So there is a romantic element after all!”
“Right! And it's not just any arrow; when it pierces the other's body, it sends in a hormone-like substance. It puts the other person's feelings into 'pregnancy mode' or something. It's pretty wild that romance and a weapon are mixed together, isn't it?”
“What is that, snails are scary lol.”
Even as I said that, I was naturally taking notes on my smartphone, thinking it might be a good theme for my next article. Kanamori-san said, “That's a good one, isn't it?” and continued excitedly.

“I wish humans could just... simply stab each other with 'I like you' like that. By the time we beat around the bush with words and attitudes, if the feeling of liking someone dries up first... it's meaningless, right?”
“Kanamori-san...”
My heart ached at her words, spoken so lonely.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to make things somber. Anyway, anyway, it seems like snails live for about three years or so.”

It must have been a truly accidental slip of the tongue. She corrected her course so surprisingly. I decided not to touch on that and went along with the topic of their lifespan.
“...Eh? Honestly, I thought it was shorter.”
I mean, I really thought they only lived during the rainy season.

“Right? That was my image too. But you know, they also moisturize to live a long life, because humidity is important.”
“Oh! Moisturizing there! Moisturizing really is important after all.”

“Right! Come to think of it, I bought a new lotion the other day and this one...”
From there, the conversation about cosmetics blossomed. Above all, I was happy that Kanamori-san had laughed.

—That evening, when I returned home, the snail was still in the same place.

“Oh... you were still there.”
The setting sun dyed the wall orange, and the surface of the shell was faintly glowing. The humidity had started to drop a little. No wonder it was retreating into its shell.

That night, I looked closely at my face in the mirror. The fine lines at the corners of my eyes, the slightly dry feeling on my cheeks.
"Oh no! Moisturize, moisturize! I have to survive with this skin! Right, Mr. Snail?" As I laughed, I became self-conscious about my smile lines and hurriedly closed my mouth.

—The next morning, that snail was gone.
On the wall, only a faint trail remained. It had likely moved on to somewhere damp during the night.

It's fine to retreat into your shell. But the courage to slowly crawl out in search of a damp breeze isn't bad either. To properly "moisturize" yourself and someone you hold dear, so that you don't dry out.

Because one day, the time might come when I, too, can shoot a "love dart" at someone—