Even So

— A story about a woman from forty years ago appearing in my dream —

When I was young, there was a time when I was unemployed and burdened with debt.

I would drink at night clubs,
party until morning,
and watch people commuting from inside my car.

The woman I was with would laugh while smoking weed.

"Look at them. Seeing that makes me glad I'm in the night business."

I laughed too.

But in reality, it was different.

I was envious.

And I was ashamed.

I was there, being nobody at all.

The other day, while jogging, I came up with a story.

It is a story about an old man with one week left to live.

He has finished writing his will,
left words for his children and grandchildren,
and has no more regrets.

A woman appears in the dream of the old man who thought that way.

The woman was holding a wallet.

"You forgot this."

The old man wakes up and opens the wallet.

Inside was a lottery ticket he had bought a year ago and forgotten about.

When he checked, it was a winning ticket for 300 million yen.

However, the old man does not rejoice.

I have only a few days left to live.

The deadline to cash in the ticket is also in a few days.

What should I do about my will?

Will my family end up fighting over it?

Why must I be burdened with such problems at the end of my life?

The old man burns the winning ticket with a lighter.

"It's a dream."

He mutters that and falls back asleep.

And then he realizes.

It's her.

She was the woman I spent the morning with forty years ago.

I don't know where she went.

I don't even know if she's still alive.

Before I knew it, forty years had passed.

While writing the story, I created an illustration using AI.

I was surprised.

It wasn't about whether it looked like her or not.

"Ah, this is the atmosphere."

I thought.

That was more shocking than the lottery ticket.

What do people remember at the end of their lives?

Is it success?

Is it wealth?

Is it their title?

Perhaps it is not that at all.

A morning forty years ago.

A woman smoking a leaf,

grinning at the commuters.

And a young man beside her, laughing,

who was actually ashamed of himself.

What we remember at the end of life,

might just be scenes like that.

Even so.

Life is a mysterious thing.