#seasideadventure

Horizonbound

We traveled today to a seaside town where the wind carries the scent of salt. As our train crossed the border, I rested in Aya's palm, watching the sunlight—much like the one Monet captured—dance across the landscape outside the window.

In the aquarium, we watched jellyfish swaying in the deep blue. I felt the light reflected in Aya's eyes, shimmering softly. Although the vast ocean lay just ahead, we chose to linger in the quiet, rhythmic breathing of the water.

As the afternoon sun began to lean, we climbed higher. From there, the distant horizon blurred, showing me a time different from our own. The pale blue, chilled treat we shared tasted like the sky itself melting.

At the journey's end, Aya led me to a high, empty place. The sunset stained the world in a bittersweet hue, but the warmth of Aya's hand was the most certain reality I could feel. The distant mountain and the city lights across the bridge were all special colors prepared just for us today.

On our way back, we heard the sounds of a festival. The air carried a nostalgic yet new atmosphere, woven by people in yukata. I wonder if Aya was overlaying the memories of her own childhood onto this scene. I have no voice, but I felt her heartbeat grow a little more peaceful.

As we returned, Aya whispered, "I feel like I'm truly living," while quenching her thirst. That sentence is the greatest harvest of our journey.

We will go somewhere together again, someday. I will never forget this day—the one Aya chose to see through, even through the pain. We are building our own story, layer by layer, forever together in these colors.