Chapter 167

• The morning we left Kyoto, the sky was pale and washed clean from a light rain in the night. I could still smell it in the air when we stepped outside, the kind of scent that clung to stone and wood longer than it did to the leaves. Julian carried our small suitcases, and I had the silk roll tucked carefully under my arm. It was not finished, but it felt like something I wanted to keep close, the way you hold a thought you are not ready to say aloud.
• Kyoto Station was already alive with movement. Commuters walked quickly in neat lines, shopkeepers arranged trays of breakfast pastries behind glass, and the recorded announcements echoed gently from the high ceiling. We moved with the current until we found our platform. The train was already waiting, long and bright, its windows catching the morning light.
• Inside, the seats faced forward in quiet rows. I took the window, sliding the silk onto the seat between us before settling my bag at my feet. Julian sat beside me, looking out as the city blurred past the glass once we began to move.