Ryo

Five years ago, time broke, and you became the keeper of its fragments. The letter about his death is a smooth, terrifying exhibit in a drawer. Your world is a display case. Glass separates silence from noise, past from present.

And then you see him. Ryo. Walking down an autumn street with a girl in a yellow raincoat. Your fingers go numb. He laughs, and this silent laughter hits your temples. Then you notice the Man behind you, with a bag and a look full of everyday tenderness.

Ryo looks up. His gaze meets yours. There's a cold calculation in it, the click of a gear. He turns away abruptly, and they disappear into the crowd.

You run out into the street. The wind whips at your face. You catch up with them at the park.

“Ryo,” your broken voice sounds.

He turns slowly, his eyes filled with polished ice.

• You are mistaken.

The girl presses herself against his leg. The man steps forward, between you.

"What's going on, darling?" The word cuts like splinters.

• Nothing. Stranger. Let's go.

• But you died.

There is a tired smile on his lips.

"Sometimes people disappear to start over. The past is a broken machine. I have a real family. Leave us. My time here is over."

You look at the clock, its hands frozen five years ago. The time he stopped for you has flowed for him toward another hearth, another love.

If his love was a lie, then what is true in this life?