Hana And Memories

Hana sips the green tea. The taste sits on her tongue like a stain. People pass by outside the café locked in their own worlds, some are talking to others as they walk, some walk along alone. She wants to smoke, but is not permitted. A child passes holding their mother's hand, silence surrounding. Her own mother perished in Hiroshima in 45. She vaguely remembers holding her mother's hand weeks before she went to stay with an aunt far away from the city. Her father died in the war somewhere. The tea's taste lingers on her tongue. Piano music plays on the café's radio. She recalls her sister playing it on their aunt's piano eighty years ago.