Love in the Palm of My Hand [Blue Literature Club]

I loved his hands.
They were big, beautiful, long-fingered, and warm.
That's why, even though we broke up and I've forgotten his face, I still remember his hands,

she said.

I listened, thinking that was a lie, just a way to act tough.

He smoked, so the smell of cigarettes was soaked into his fingers, and while I liked that sweet scent, still,
I broke up with him because I hated that he smoked.
After all, it made my hair smell like cigarettes.

She tilted her head slightly, let her beautiful long hair sway, and looked at her own hands.
She must be remembering the feel of his hands and the smell of the cigarettes.

Saying you've forgotten his face is a lie, isn't it? I say to her in my heart once more.
I decided not to say it out loud.


Several years later,
while walking hand-in-hand with my new boyfriend and stopping at a red light, I suddenly remembered her words.

His hands, warm, big, and gentle.
Hands I want to hold forever.
If I break up with him, will I forget his face, too?
Leaving only the memory of his hands?

Thinking that, I looked up from below at his profile as he watched the traffic light.
The setting sun was too bright, and I couldn't see it well.

(End)

I am participating in Mr. Yamane's project.