...And the Sakura Will Blossom
The early morning arrived. The moon had fallen and the sun began to rise. Its sharp, yet subtle, rays radiating through the shoji that bordered Romazo Yakutoro’s four-sided house. The wall of sunlight that shined through slowly crept along the floor, before reaching Romazo’s mattress where it proceeded to cover his blankets and his, soon to be unrested, face. Romazo’s swift squints and batting eyelids deepened the wrinkles that surrounded the corners of his eyes. He breathed in deeply through his nostrils, the air cutting through the thick mucus that lay within his nose. Followed was a wheezing cough, which involuntarily caused his neck muscles to contract and pull his head off the pillow he wouldn’t see until the sun set again. Like his spine was made of rust, Romazo grunted exasperatingly as he struggled to sit in an upright position. He let out a hopeless sigh, ‘another yesterday’ he thought to himself. Peeling the blanket off his legs, he turned to his left and from the floor, grabbed his work clothes; an old, dusty grey pullover that he squeezed his overweight body through.