“You’ll always be alone.” The tiny voice inside her head keeps saying. It drives her forward, it goads her into action. What does she care if she’s alone? She chooses to be alone. People are a liability, they’re a distraction. She holds the lives of people in the palm of her hand all the time, so she knows just how fragile people are.
Still, that stubborn part of her watches as a couple pass, shy glances and holding hands, whispering about the up and coming holiday. Another year, she’ll watch from the sidelines, the pinks and reds, hearts and stars. The laughter and the soft whispers. At least this year she had her own room somewhere well away from inns, where the oh so joyous sounds of coupling seeped through the walls on all sides.
She wasn’t bitter, or so she told herself, sitting in front of her fireplace and glancing around, “Happy Nameday, Suzume... you survived another year.” Wish a soft sigh, she blew out the candle on her single cupcake, picked up on her way home. She didn’t make a wish, it was just the comfort of tradition that prompted the little ceremony. The night drifted into deafen silence as she sat the cupcake down and climbed the small set of steps to her lofted bed, curling up in the middle of the soft mattress and closing her eyes. Maybe next year.
