The next morning, you slept in late. There was no freshly made coffee waiting in the kitchen, no friendly conversation like yesterday. When you did wake up, you were . . . well, not exactly cold, but not very warm, either. You kept your distance from me; your smile seemed somewhat forced; there was parsimony in your words. I don’t mean to say that you were behaving like a woman scorned, but the change in your demeanor, though subtle, was palpable. The spell had been broken.

If I could, I would have rewound the clock and returned to the engawa with your head resting on my lap, my hand on your breast, and kissed you. But what was done, was done; or more precisely what had not been done could not now be done. The chance had been missed; the door was now shut.

When I got home later in the afternoon, my wife asked me how the “camp” had gone.

“Alright, I guess,” I said with a shrug. “I probably won’t do it next year, though.”

“Oh? Did something happen?”

“No. I just need a break from it all.”

True to my word, I wouldn’t hold the camp the following year. I wouldn’t take students anywhere, either, unless I absolutely had to. There wasn’t much use in it. For me at least, there wasn’t. I knew it just would pale in comparison to what I had experienced with you and your cohort. I knew it would be futile trying to rekindle the fresh enthusiasm you had brought into it. The spark had been snuffed out.

The first chapter of Tears can be found here.

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