Come Summer, Come Winter, I'll Come for You

By Rei Rosenquist

Sammy found love on a trip to Japan, but things get complicated when you're traveling.

 

Mikata fell in love too; her own complications be damned.

 

Time passed. Can the two reconnect? Can love be enough? Are the complications too much?

 

Ony time will tell...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rei Rosenquist
• Release date: Nov 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215641088

Rei Rosenquist

Rei Rosenquist first remembers life as seen out the high window of a hotel balcony. Down below is a courtyard, swarms of brightly dressed tourists, the beach. The memory is nothing but a blue-green washed image. Warmth and sunlight. Here, they are three years old, and this is the beginning of a nomadic story-teller’s life. Over the years, they have traveled to many countries, engaged many peoples, picked up new habits, and learned new languages. But, some things never change. For them, these are stories, food service, and traveling. These three passions have bloomed from hobbies, studies, and jobs into a way of life. These days, Rei can be found in between Tokyo, Kailua, and Bellingham, Washington pouring beautiful latte art, baking off a batch of famous savory scones, and cozying up with a laptop to obsessively write mountains of dark speculative fiction. You can find Rei’s stories and blog at reirosenquist.com. You can also reach them via email at [e-mail] or connect via Facebook (Rei Rosenquist), Twitter (rylrosenquist) and Instagram (rylrosenquist).

Book preview

SUMMER

Tokyo, 2014

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Through low grey-brown smoggy-looking clouds, the morning sun peaks through. The color, a shockingly dull and far away yellow-orange. The heat is already heavy, damp, absolutely suffocating. A waterlogged wool blanket that scratches at throats, stuffs up lungs, and makes the whole city collectively cough and choke.

As I descend the rickety metal stairs of my ugly industrial cookie-cutter apartment complex, the back of my neck is already wet. Rushing to cross the street before the blinking green light turns to red, my thighs slip slickly past one another. So much for the fresh nylons I unpacked mere minutes ago.

The package promised to help with this kind of thing – airing out summer sweat that trickles down your inner thighs like dirty rivers headed to the sea of gross pooling in the bottom of each shoe. A waste of 100 yen.

But then, it was in Japanese, so maybe I misread a kanji. Or all of them.

My bad.

I keep on down the sidewalk, sticking to the right side of the raised yellow stripe, dragging myself along at a pathetic pace. Staring down the road toward my destination, I sigh wearily.

Harajuku Station.

It’s so far away and I’m already tired. Long Tokyo hours of bland web design work will do that.

I blink a few times, trying to see through the thick haze all around me. No use. Humidity clings to my eyelashes and eyebrows. It covers the city in a not-quite-sheer film of misery. If only I could find something exciting. Today is a shot at that. A better life.

A drop of sweat trickles from my hairline, a slow snake slipping across my forehead, and drips into my eye. I wipe it away with the small square towel with cutesy trees that smile at me. I keep forgetting to change it out. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It smells of mildew. Just like the rest of my clothes, my closet, my apartment, all of Tokyo.

One more reason to hate Tokyo’s summertime. Tsuyuu they call it, which can mean either plum season or season of mildew and mold depending on which kanji is used.

Unlike loads of other kanji, I understand