What's Left of Me Is Yours

Looking back on that conversation, Rina asked herself if what he had said was true, She had been shiny once as a young girl, when they'd first met, as one if before decisions are made and opportunities are lost. She would never be that way again, but then Sato had never really believe in her shine, had he? He had seen through it from the very beginning, through her to the woman waiting, the fighter beneath.

We erase events from our lives, experiences that do not fit in with the stories we tell ourselves. Still, there are some memories that hover on the periphery. They reach out to you from another time and transform a moment of joy into one of shame. From then on these recollections stay with you. They linger on the edge of your vision and say, "Look at what you are.

That evening in Meguro, standing outside the white metal gate of the house I still shared with my grandfather, I realized I had not seen my home clearly in quite some time. The image I had created in my mind had been generated years before, while in front of me reality had shifted. We see what we expect to see; I am proof of that.

That afternoon, alone on the floor of my grandfather's study, looking at those words, I realized that of all the lies we are told, the very best ones are close to the truth.

Some words are buried, others are even burned, but over the years they reemerge, ringing out like temple bells, rising above the din.

There are some experiences, even small ones, that hit you like a blow to the gut. Their force can linger for months, even years.

When they drew apart, it was by a fraction only. 'My love, what's left of me is yours,' he whispered.

There was nothing left, only the remnants of those I loved. I tried to hold my memories of them close, but I could not; they had changed.

What I realised is that I am all that is left. All of these stories, photographs and facts reside within me. There are tangible things that remain: her shoes, her packets of scent, his letters. These things tell the story of a life, of many lives intertwined, but I am the point at which they meet.

Look at the people around you: those you love, those who love you, those who want what you have. They can enter your life as easily as he entered mine.

What do people want? Approval? Praise? Affection? That is all attraction is: I like you because you like me and that's how it's done. You turn yourself into a mirror for each person. You pretend interest in their problems, radiate approval, and you reflect back to them the things they want to see.