White about Red

It was a strange feeling, like the calm after rain—free, yet cold at the same time. Sometimes it felt like purity, like fresh abundance… yet none of these emotions truly encompassed Reno. He wandered along the sidewalk. It was unusual for him, but he had stopped the driver and decided to walk through the city streets to his home. Even so, the weather did nothing to lift his spirits. Life had become tedious, though he had everything; yet happiness eluded him. Such things happen. He walked, not thinking, so exhausted he had almost stopped feeling, forgetting even how to. Only a vague sense of revulsion pierced the scent of the damp air.

The unfamiliar bus stop startled him, yet in that moment of distraction, he noticed that only one girl remained, waiting. Small, quiet, and seemingly Asian, she sat alone on a bench. Her straight black hair shone so vividly that even at night it might serve as a reflector. Reno wanted to talk to her. He approached, not fearing her judgment—he simply wanted to understand, because deep down he sensed that they shared the same state of soul, though he hadn’t remembered her face for years.

He sat down beside her and spoke:

“Hi.”

She said nothing.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Silence.

“Should I step away?”

Her loose hair stirred slightly, as if saying no.

“I’ll stay.”

And in that moment, Reno realized he could tell her everything he could not share with lawyers, with his wife, with his children, or with friends—but with this small girl, he could open himself.

“You know, I think I’ll die soon. Nothing interests me anymore, as Holly Golightly once said. Do you know her? A wonderful girl—of course she doesn’t exist, but how she lives… in the book…” He smiled to himself. “This is what I mean. That feeling, like in the book: climbing the walls, not because you’re trapped or in pain, but because it’s over.”

He looked at her. She remained silent, but a nod told him she wanted him to continue.

“I’m tired of living like this. When I built my name, I did it all for family, to make sure no one suffered losses. But then I got caught up in the game—winning and losing at once—and what I lost no longer mattered. What once gave life meaning ceased to matter. Do you understand?”

She stayed silent, and he took it as a sign to continue.

“My wife, my children… I loved them, but now I don’t remember how—that’s all I know. I only know I have a wife and three children who study here and there… It was just a stage in life, or rather, a moment I wanted to seize and provide for… And the game ended. And friends… only two. Real friends shouldn’t be many, and yet even they betray me. You might ask why I don’t speak to them. Because they failed me… You know what I want? Just not to think.”

The girl took his hand.

“You understand me…”

He realized he hadn’t even asked her name; he had simply begun unloading his problems.

“Forgive me,” he said quietly. “What’s your name?”

She remained silent, then turned to him. Her eyes were either black or glassy—they shone, it was hard to tell. To Reno, they seemed like two big, jelly-like orbs, radiant and bright. He felt a twinge of fear but didn’t let go of her hand.

“What’s your name?”

Silence again, though he thought he heard either the wind or raindrops falling from the awning.

“Yoko? Is that right?”

Her hair moved slightly, affirming.

“Yoko, let’s have lunch.”

He offered his hand, but she declined.

“You need to eat. You’re young, you need strength. Come on.”

He didn’t want to call the driver, afraid she might think he was stingy. But he simply didn’t want to share this moment with anyone. Yoko had become a treasure, a miracle, an immense ocean.

“I just don’t want anyone to see you,” he said. “I don’t want to introduce you. I don’t want them to know. I’m not afraid of rumors—I just don’t want to give away something that is mine alone.”

Something tightened in Reno’s chest. He reached for his heart, but Yoko didn’t pause, and he followed.

They sat at a small terrace, eating a salad of cucumbers and tomatoes with pepper, vinegar, and olive oil. They had ordered it, but barely touched it. Reno had ordered it—the girl remained silent. The scent of vinegar and oil mixed with the damp air. The tiny terrace felt enormous, like the vastness of Reno’s inner state.

“Do you want to go to the waterfront, Yoko?” he broke the silence.

She shook her head.

“Don’t want to? Come on, I’ll show you the beautiful sea.”

She took his hand. For a moment, he thought she might be blind or deaf—but it only made her perfect. He guided her gently, down the stairs to the pier. Reno felt his lost youth, carefree days when he ran to the pier, dangling his legs in the water, smoking cheap cigarettes, gazing at the stars with all his heart.

Yoko held his hand, and he realized even the emptiest jar of his heart could be filled again—flowers could bloom, life could return. He felt young again, eager to dip his feet in the water.

“You know, Yoko, I used to think money was everything. But it isn’t. The most important thing is the feeling of time. And I’m late… so late…” He felt Yoko’s strong pulse through his hand.

“No, don’t think about that. I don’t want to go back. I’m glad I achieved my name, I have a family, but now I realize: did I live my life for myself? Few understand that I am unhappy… I’m not greedy, I just completed a project given to every person: to create a family, provide for it, and remain healthy. I did it, I solved God’s plan—but why does it still feel wrong…” Reno fell silent.

He sat on the pier, removed his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants, and let his legs sink into the sleepy afternoon waves. Yoko watched him, understanding that this was how he reclaimed his happiness.

“Yoko, what is happiness to you?”

She sat beside him, hair fluttering in the wind.

“Yoko, feel the sea, the scent, the waves, their independent rhythm, the amber-blue glow… beauty.”

They watched the sunset, hearing children at the amusement park and yachts setting sail. Evening streets seemed unfamiliar, yet familiar. For Reno, it was the first day he had given himself completely to a stranger. He led Yoko to the bus stop, unsure what to do next. Her hair glowed like an angel. He took her hand and walked to a taxi.

“Good night, Premier Mar, please.”

They got in.

Reno was not the type to take women to hotel rooms for pleasure. He despised those friends who did. For him, the bed wasn’t a point of happiness. He didn’t order champagne or strawberries, nor place her in a lotus pose.

“Yoko, hot chocolate? Something to drink?”

She lay against his chest. He began telling a story: “Once there was a young man…” describing his life, mistakes, losses, and newfound joy.

The unfinished emptiness that had haunted Reno before meeting Yoko was gone. Darkness no longer surrounded him—beside him was the guide he had long missed. He clutched his chest, yet Yoko was there.

“You’re my angel,” he whispered, and fell asleep.

Reno opened his eyes because of a sound at the window. It stood open, and the rain was slipping quietly into the hotel room, touching the floor, the air, the edges of his sleep.

“Yoko, are you cold?”

There was no answer. He did not see her. He was alone. And yet, for the first time in a long while, loneliness did not return to him.

He walked to the window. Outside, a girl stood beneath the rain. She was waving to him. The rain washed her footprints from the sand, with them dissolved as well—the emptiness he had carried for so long.

“Yoko, come inside,” Reno called.

She remained where she was. The rain fell harder. She lifted her arms toward the sky, embracing every drop, as if they were meant only for her.

“Come,” he said again, though his voice no longer carried insistence.

She waved once more, like the quiet movement of the morning tide. Then she became one with the rain...

Reno did not feel abandoned. He was not alone. He could still feel her breath against his chest, lingering like warmth after touch.

He knew then what she had been.

She had been his angel.

The writer put a period. He thought he had written a masterpiece of the soul, but it was only a reflection of Reno’s state, which he had finally regained.