Emi stepped into her room.

George was watching TV, Emi wanted to turn in early.

She changed into shorts and a shirt.

Before she could set herself into the bed, her foot collided with something that rattled.

She stopped, looking down to the floor and seeing the small orange prescription bottle.

She picked it up and read his name.

George Miller.

One daily.

Side effects, drowsiness.

She stared at it for a long time.

She looked at his suitcase, it was open, a few things strewn here and there.

Emi deduced that he must've been in a rush.

She held the bottle in her hands, crawling into the bed and sitting against the headboard.

She sat there and waited for quite a while before George came into the room.

"You're still up?" He asked, scratching the back of his head with a lazy smile.

Emi bit her lip, turning the bottle over in her hand.

George saw it.

"Where'd you find that?" He asked.

"On the floor." Emi said quietly.

George looked stuck for a moment.

"Thanks, I must had dropped them." He said, quickly walking over and outstretching his palm for her to place it in.

She looked down, placing it in his palm as he snatched it and tossed it inside his case, zipping it shut.

George changed his shirt and put on some sweats.

It was a bit cold.

He sat on the bed, getting under the covers.

Emi played with her fingers.

"Don't ask, okay?" He said, suddenly.

Emi was confused at first but then agreed.

"Okay."

George looked at her and frowned, more at himself than her.

He reached out a hand, brushed the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, and let out a breath.

He then scratched his head, moving and turning out the light.

As he was about to lay down, he stopped.

He grabbed her arm and tugged lightly.

"何をしていますか。?" ( What're you doing? ) She asked.

"ここに来るだけ。" ( Just come here. )

He pulled her, and lifted her so that she was between his legs, her back pressed firmly to his chest.

He slipped his arms under hers, and wrapped them around her stomach.

He closed his eyes, placing his nose just by the side of her head almost in front of her ear.

Emi looked down, not wanting to move.

She felt a bit tense, but she didn't know why.

This moment felt as if it carried off into a million lifetimes, never stopping but always in motion.

God, how he wanted to sing to her.

He tried to think of something, anything, but making noise right now, singing, it wasn't going to happen.

It felt wrong.

He sighed, holding her tightly.

He liked feeling her against him.

It was very different from the touch of a naked college girl.

He needed to stop thinking about it.

They sat there for a while.

Emi had closed her eyes.

As she was drifting between the divides of slumber and consciousness, she felt George's warm lips press softly to her cold neck.

He parted after a few seconds.

"Let's go to sleep."

He moved her out of his lap.

Emi laid down on her back.

"Roll on your side."

She looked at George, who was just about to lay down himself, only held up by his one extended arm.

Emi rolled on her side facing him.

George laid down, scooting closer until his face was gently secured in her neck. He curled up against her like a child.

Emi's breathing picked up.

George raised his arm, bringing it over her hip and placing his hand on her shoulder.

"It's alright."

With this, they fell asleep.

~~~~~

The next day went by quite quick.

George had left early in the morning to go spend a day with his mother, and Emi sat in the grass of her backyard.

She sat there, her hand on the part of her neck that George had kissed.

Why had he done it?

She felt odd.

Not because of the kiss, but she just felt weird.

She shook it off, standing up and moving back inside.

She should get ready for work.

~~~~

The Miller mother stared at her son from across the table.

"私の息子..." ( My son... ) She smiled.

George smiled at his mother as he set his cup of tea down.

"それはしばらくのたびにあなたを呼ぶためにあなたを殺しますか？" ( Would it kill you to call every once in a while? ) she asked, laughing at her son.

George rolled his eyes and smacked his hand to his face.

"あなたは自分の母親と話す以上にEmiと話します！しかし、もちろん、夫は通常、母親よりも妻に話しています。" ( You talk to Emi more than you talk to your own mother! But of course, a husband usually talks to their wife more than their mother. ) She said with a smirk on her face.

"ママ！" ( Mom! ) George exclaimed.

"何？私は何も言わなかった。" ( What? I didn't say anything. )  she said, looking away.

George smiled as he sipped at his tea again.

It felt good to be home.

~~~~

Emi watched the clock.

Tomoko was usually in by now.

He usually came in every single day without fail.

Emi just figured that he was late.

He was an old man, after all, and Emi did remember his dislike of cars.

He walked everywhere.

She neatly placed some pastries on a plate and brought them to a table that had a lovely young couple.

It felt good to Emi to spend a whole day at work again.

She loved her work very much.

As the customers thanked her, she bowed her head and smiled, walking away.

As she went back to the counter, the bell above the door jingled.

"Welcome!" She called out.

"Thanks." 

Emi stopped and looked towards the door.

George smiled brightly at her.

His raven hair shone under the dim lights of the café.

She rushed forward, and he embraced her in a hug.

When they parted she brought him to the counter table, where he could sit and talk with her freely.

They had light conversation about how his day was and how his mother was doing as she served some macaroons to him along with a nice warm cup of tea.

As they spoke, Emi kept glancing at the clock.

George noticed this and finally decides to speak up.

"What's wrong?"

Emi looked back to George.

"Oh, uh, just, this man who comes in every day, I wanted you to meet him but he was supposed to come in hours ago..."

She glanced out the window, biting her lip.

She was very worried.

George turned around and looked out the window.

There was a sakura tree across the street...

His brain rang and buzzed wildly.

"Emi," he began, remembering the news program that was on that day in the convenient store.

"What did you say his name was again?"

"Tomoko..." she said. "Why?"

George gulped and pulled out his phone.

"What's his last name?"

"Takahashi..."  Emi replied as a customer walked up to the counter, requesting a coffee.

George slowly typed the mans name in his phone.

"You said he came in yesterday, yeah?"

"Yeah, He was acting a bit strange, though... Maybe he's sick..."

George grew cold as he read the article on his phone.

'Yesterday marked the three year death anniversary of famous artist Tomoko Takahashi, who died tragically when he was hit by a car. Takahashi's last request before he died was that he was moved to sit against a large Sakura tree that resides in front of a coffee shop in town.  He had died before paramedics could arrive on the scene.' 

"Emi," George shakily called to her.

She set the pot down, holding the cup in her hand, ready to go deliver it to the table when she grabbed George's phone.

Slowly, her hands began to shake.

"This could be anyone. Takahashi is a common name." Emi said, setting down his phone.

George scrolled down.

The photo of the man was undeniably him.

His old, wise, smiling face.

His gray hair.

His smile.

It was him.

And he was dead.

He'd been dead.

For three years.

The coffee cup fell from her hands, and shattered on the floor.

All the memories of Tomoko talking to her and sitting inside the coffee shop, him laughing, examining macaroons, all of that... Was it real?

A ghost?

Emi began to fall.

She couldn't hear as George shouted her name, running around the counter to try and catch her before she hit the floor.

That old man was all that Emi had to look forward to with George gone.

George was here now but only for a short time...

Emi couldn't even hear George as he placed his hands on either side of her face.

He tried to get her to look into his eyes but Emi pulled her head back, pushing his hands away from her.

She felt hot but cold at the same time.

She didn't even notice the cut in her hand from landing on the broken glass.

George called for someone in the shop to help.

The customer who'd just walked in was also an employee.

He told George that he would take over running the register, and that there was a cot in the back room, and a first aid kit in the cupboard.

George moved closer to Emi and picked her up.

She was shaking like nothing he'd ever felt before.

He brought her into the back room, though she struggled to get free from his grip.

She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Shh, shh, Emi-"

He sat her on the couch, and ran to get the first aid kit.

Which cupboard was it in?

He opened and closed random ones, rummaging through the frantically.

"Fuck!" he shouted.

"Which fucking one is it in?!" he screamed at himself.

After almost wrecking one of the cupboards, he found it, quickly grabbing it and taking it to Emi.

He moved quickly, sitting near her.

"Emi," he grabbed her hand but she moved away.

"エミ、私を見てください。" ( Emi, look at me. ) he said.

He tried to put his hands on either of her cheeks again.

"私を見て、私を見て..." ( Look at me, look at me...)

Emi finally looked at him.

She looked gone for a moment, like her own soul had left her body.

When her eyes connected with George's, he slowly saw the life return to her eyes.

"あなたは大丈夫です、私はあなたのそばにいます。" ( You're okay, I'm right beside you. )

Emi's eyes slowly filled with tears that spilled without hesitation.

George grabbed her, kissing her forehead and holding her close to his chest.

She began crying aloud.

"Shh, shh..."

He held her tightly.

It was what she needed.

"Give me your hand..." he said.

Emi shoved her face into his neck and held out the bleeding hand.

George took care of it carefully, pausing every now and then when she would jerk away from the sting of the alcohol.

When it was done and bandaged, George knew that the best thing would be to take Emi home.

With a bit of a struggle, he got her off of him. As he went to go to the front, Emi's small broken voice called out his name.

"George..."

"Yeah, Emi?"

"Can I see the article, again?"

George handed her his phone, as he kissed the top of her head.

She'd calmed down now. but she still felt awful.

Was she mental?

Had she imagined it all?

What was that called?

There was a name for it, right?

Schizophrenia?

It scared her to think about.

Before she could turn on the screen to glance at the article once more, just to confirm what she'd just seen, the phone buzzed, and came to life with a text notification.

'Jen' with a lip emoji.

'Jen: I miss that tongue of yours'

on the end were water drop emojis and a tongue.

Emi looked away.

Her eyes began to water again.

George wasn't hers.

She knew that.

But she didn't know that he was someone else's completely.

She felt sick.

George wasn't hers.

But the thought of him touching someone else...

Emi didn't even want to think about what that text meant.

She didn't want to think about George having sex with women.

But...

George wasn't hers.

She couldn't tell him what he could and couldn't do.

Especially when he was half way around the world away form her when school is in session and its not summer or break time.

So, through all of the shock and emotions, Emi bit back the bitter words on her tongue, and swallowed them with much difficulty.

When George came back into the room, the only thing Emi saw at first was what it would look like to see George wrapped around, or rather, a girls legs wrapped around his head.

Emi let the tears flow freely.

"You got a text." Emi said shakily.

She stood shakily and handed the phone to George.

She watched as he turned on the screen and a look of horror came over his face.

"Emi,"

"Can we leave now?"

"Emi-"

Just like that.

She walked away.