New Year's Day Lost Time | Short Story

On New Year's Day, the city was as quiet as if it were dead.
The sky was infinitely high and blue enough to be sucked into. The cold air pierced deep into my lungs, and only the breath I exhaled turned into a cloudy white, barely proving that I was still alive.

January 1st. It is a day when everyone takes a new step and speaks of hopes and resolutions. But for me, at twenty-three, it was nothing more than a "forced calendar reset." It was an uncomfortable feeling, like being forced to wear brand-new clothes without being able to wash off the dirt of last year.
"I'm hungry..."
My mutterings were swept away by the wind, reaching no one. The refrigerator was empty, and the only remaining rice cake I had found moldy this morning and tossed into the trash can.
I threw on my coat and left my room, heading for the nearby convenience store.

That was the beginning of everything.

The promenade I usually take. Along the way, there was an unfamiliar alley. A narrow gap between old multi-tenant buildings, barely wide enough for one person to pass through. From there, the scent of a strangely appetizing soup stock drifted out.
"Was there a shop in a place like this...?"
I stepped inside as if lured. With every step I took, the sound of cars in the distance and the voices of people faded away.
Beyond the alley was a small plaza. There, an old food stall with a red lantern hanging from it and a laundromat I had never seen before stood side by side.
On the sign of the laundromat, it was written in gold letters:

"Memory Laundry: Open only from January 1st to 3rd"

"Welcome. Young man, is there something you'd like to wash?"
Suddenly, I was spoken to. An old man dressed in a strange combination of a kimono and a down jacket was sitting on a stool at the food stall. He had his white hair tied up carelessly and was holding a steaming bowl in his hands.
"Oh, no... I guess I got lost, or rather, I smelled something good."
"Ho, you have a good nose. This is zoni made with 'last year's remaining fortune.' Would you like a bowl?"
The old man tapped the round stool next to him. Having no reason to refuse—or rather, no energy to refuse—I sat down as if drawn to it.
Inside the bowl he handed me was a clear broth, a pure white rice cake, and vegetables of a color I had never seen before. As I took a sip, the warmth spread slowly from my stomach throughout my entire body.
Strangely, every time I swallowed it, the "bad things that happened last year" would fragmentally surface in my mind and then disappear.
Being scolded by my boss.
Being dumped by my lover.
Vague anxiety about the future.
It was a sensation as if those things were melting away along with the steam of the zoni.
"This... isn't just regular zoni, is it?"
"As you guessed. This is the 'gap between years.' New Year's is a very unstable time when old time and new time mix. That's why laundry is necessary like this."
The old man pointed to the laundromat next door. Looking closely, what was spinning inside the transparent drums were not clothes. They were sepia-toned photographs, someone's handwritten notes, or things like formless 'smoke'.
"Those are the remnants of last year that everyone couldn't throw away. Attachments, regrets, things like that. If you don't wash them clean here, your steps will feel heavy when you walk into the new year."
Watching the washing machine rattle as it spun, I realized the true nature of the discomfort I had been carrying.
I was afraid of ending last year. I was ashamed to bring myself into the new year, having achieved nothing and simply consumed time.
"Can I... wash mine too?"
At my strained voice, the old man narrowed his already thin eyes and smiled.
"Of course. However, my laundry fees are high, you know?"
"If it's money, I have a little."
"No, it's not money. The payment here is your 'New Year's resolution.' And it must be one from the deepest part of your heart, without any lies or falsehoods."
—New Year's resolution.
I had never even thought about such a thing.
Not shallow words like "staying healthy" or "saving money." Words with more heat, from deeper within myself.
I closed my eyes and reached into the empty space inside me. My body, warmed by the zoni, gradually began to weave words.

"I..."

The back of my throat grew hot.
"I want to be needed by someone. ...No, that's not it. I want to forgive myself. I want to accept who I am, even if I'm nobody, without laughing at myself. That is what I want to do this year."
The moment I put it into words, my heart felt lighter.
"Well done."
When the old man snapped his fingers, one of the laundromat machines stopped with a light chime. The old man opened the door, took out something that looked like a small, glowing fragment, and handed it to me.
—It's hot.
But strangely, it felt comfortable. It melted straight into my body, and my heavy steps became light as if it were a lie.
"Now, go home. The words you just said are more than enough for the price of the zoni."
When the old man waved his hand, a deep fog rose around us. The scent of the soup stock faded, and in its place, the smell of the cold winter wind returned.
"Wait, please!"
By the time I called out, the alley and the food stall were already gone. I was standing on the usual sidewalk in front of the usual convenience store.
In my right hand, I was holding a small amulet I hadn't noticed before. On the pure white fabric, the words 'Washed' were embroidered in silver thread.
A laugh escaped me.
I was still nobody. My job was dull, and I had no savings. But I felt like I could look at the me from yesterday from a little further away.
"Well, I guess I'll buy some rice cakes."
I walked through the automatic doors of the convenience store. The New Year's Day background music playing in the store sounded a little brighter than before.
The sky was infinitely blue.
My new year had just begun, from this very step.

(End)

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