The fishing pond

We were walking west, following the street we came from and going opposite the train station. I can confidently say that I'd never been to that place, but it didn't look like I had missed much either way. It was a very run-of-the-mill residential area. We didn't talk very much while we walked. To me, it felt a bit like exploration, and my mind was busy with that. On the other hand, she seemed lost in her own thoughts, but her eyes were more focused than mine, not at all aimless. Every so often we would talk about what we saw, from a funny-shaped cloud to a curious house that looked like it was packed with some family's history.

Between my childlike sense of wonder and our exchanges, it felt like I'd walked a long distance but in a short time. It caught me by surprise when she turned a sharp right into what looked appeared to be a park with some bushes, but I soon realized it was a fishing pond.

"Come." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper as if she hadn't caught her breath before speaking out of excitement.

So I followed her, and we walked past two old men who sounded like they were complaining about something, and she sat down on a bench by the water. I hesitated at first but eventually sat down beside her. I followed her eyes into the water, and soon I was hypnotized by the ripples and subtle bubbling.

"Since we were nearby I thought it would be cool to revisit this place and show it to you." She put down her bag between her feet. "My dad used to bring me here when I was little. He would wake me up at 6 in the morning every time. Getting out of bed was a struggle, but I always had fun anyway."

"Oh." What she told me wasn't hard to understand, I just wasn't expecting her to share some personal history. "So you like fishing? As in a hobby?"

"Nope." She chuckled, and shook her head slowly, her eyes fixed on the water surface. "But he'd always take me to an old lady's cheap candy store, and then we had fish for lunch."

When was the last time I tried fishing?

"I can't say I like fishing, I don't even remember what it feels like, to be honest." I hunched over a little and turned to look at Sakurai. "But I can see what was so good about it." She smiled at my half-joking tone. "So, what caused you to stop coming here?"

"Hmm." She sounded like she was trying really hard to remember, and the funny face she made, even if for a moment, looked adorable up close. "Oh, god... I don't remember." She let out a faint and shy chuckle and mimicked my pose, looking me right in the eye.

"I think I still remember how it works. Maybe we could try coming here someday." Her eyes rapidly moved away from mine. My answer would obviously be positive, but of course, she had no way of knowing that, so I said:

"We could." See, there's no reason to be shy about this! That's what I thought until she startled and looked back at me. Before I knew it, I was the one looking away. "Hm... Yeah, I'm looking forward to a very professional and qualified fishing lesson." I said in a joking manner, and in response, she stuck her tongue out.

I was starting to feel like my schedule was packed with things to do, a stark contrast from how things were just two weeks ago. At this rate, I would be forced to actually drop out of the club, since I wasn't going to give up my art. But even though it felt a bit overwhelming almost on a daily basis, I was having a lot of fun and began enjoying the feeling of looking forward to something new, in contrast to anticipating free time. We wrapped up our, ahem, date, as soon as we noticed that it was starting to get dark, and went our separate ways at the train station.

I was in bed on my phone, getting sleepier by the minute, hoping that my mind would be taken away any minute so I could rest properly before school when the notification message popped up above the video I was watching. This time, it wasn't Birdie. We had exchanged numbers today in a last-minute rush when we realized that we wanted to keep talking, just as her train's departure cut us off.

Sakurai: Hey, are you awake?

Me: Yep.

Sakurai: I wanted to show you something I made after we hung out today...

Sakurai: The lines that extend indefinitely like scribbles on a piece of paper, sometimes disconnect, others looking for their next turn. Sometimes, taking sharp turns and wrapping back into themselves, forced to stare back at their beginnings, and retrace the same line. But if the original line remains, should one fall back into the crevice and follow along the path of least resistance? Should one choose to remain a squiggly nothing, rather than detour into the uncharted where art may lie in wait, instead?

All I had to show for it was a sense of surprise – to the fact that she wrote such things, and even more surprised that she chose to send it to me, and surprised that it actually made perfect sense to me, somehow – as if she had read my mind. I turned from side to side, holding my phone next to my pillow, up in the air... This was the day when I drifted asleep feeling all fuzzy inside, and that happened before I remembered to write a reply.