“Sumire frowned and sighed. “If they invent a car that runs on stupid jokes, you could go far.”

“If they invent a car that runs on stupid jokes, you could go far.”

“If I had my way, me too,” Sumire said, beaming. “But whatcan you do? Wonderful things always come to an end.”

“Distance might not solve anything, no matter how far you run.”

“All over again I understood how important, how irreplaceable,Sumire was to me. In her own special way she’d kept metethered to the world. As I talked to her and read her stories,my mind quietly expanded, and I could see things I’d neverseen before. Without even trying, we grew close. Like a pair ofyoung lovers undressing in front of each other, Sumire and Ihad exposed our hearts to one another, an experience I’d neverhave with anyone else, anywhere. We cherished what we hadtogether, though we never put into words how very precious itwas.Of course it hurt that we could never love each other in aphysical way. We would have been far happier if we had. Butthat was like the tides, the change of seasons—somethingimmutable, an immovable destiny we could never alter. Nomatter how cleverly we might shelter it, our delicate friendshipwasn’t going to last for ever. We were bound to reach a deadend. That was painfully clear.I loved Sumire more than anyone else and wanted her morethan anything in the world. And I couldn’t just shelve thosefeelings, for there was nothing to take their place.I dreamed that someday there’d be a sudden, majortransformation. Even if the chances of it coming true were slim, Icould dream about it, couldn’t I? But I knew it would nevercome true.”

“In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life.”

“Tell me,” said Sumire, “have you ever felt confused aboutwhat you’re doing, like it’s not right?”“I spend more time being confused than not,” I answered.”