When the light finally moved again, slipping toward the corner, the tea was gone.
Instead, she poured tea into her own cup and set it down in the hizashi no naka . The steam rose, swirled, and disappeared into the brightness. hizashi no naka
At two o’clock, it entered through the east window, touching the rim of her tea bowl. At three, it stretched across the kotatsu, warming the worn fabric where her fingers rested. At four, it climbed the wall, illuminating a crack in the plaster that she had grown fond of — a river of time she traced with her eyes. When the light finally moved again, slipping toward