Even though he was a god, Daisuke always removed his shoes before he went inside. It was the polite thing to do.
He knocked on the sliding screen door.
“Come in,” a woman’s voice called.
Daisuke slid open the door and stepped into the front chamber. He stared in surprise at the woman sitting on the tatami mat floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to see Yoshiko so clearly. She wore a yellow kimono decorated with white flowers. Her bright eyes and sunrise smile shared her face with an abundance of wrinkles.
“Please sit down,” she said.
He knelt in front of the low, wooden table in the center of the room. He couldn’t take his gaze from Yoshiko. She looked almost solid. His own skin was translucent.
Yoshiko poured two cups of tea and handed one to Daisuke. “The cherry blossoms will be here soon,” she said. “I don’t think the flowers would be as beautiful if they lasted all year. A week or two and they are gone.”
He couldn’t detect any sadness in her voice, but he knew the significance of her flesh becoming solid had not escaped her.
Ze rest lives here.