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Summary
A few meters away, sitting on a stone bench and so at odds with the merry atmosphere, sits a lone figure dressed in a black suit, stark against the background of yellow and auburn. Messy brown hair, slender build, delicate facial features, distinctive even with half his face hidden behind dark wayfarers. It could be a stranger, he tells himself, but he knows instantly that it’s a lie. He knows this person’s appearance like the palm of his hand, or at least he did, once.
A trip to Japan to mourn a loved one. A chance encounter under the autumn leaves.