When I finally reach the small bench where he is supposed to wait for me, I see it is already occupied by someone else: a young black-haired man,
whose face is half-obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses, looking a ridiculous sight in the soft light of the evening. Fighting for breath, I let my gaze wander but can't find Kudo anywhere.
He must have been caught in a traffic jam like me or—and this is a just as probable case—he has stumbled over a corpse again.
I look about myself and notice to my disappointment that all the benches within view are occupied, mostly by elderly tourists, who must have come to gaze at the cherry blossoms and the sunset,
which has begun unusually early and seems to last longer than usual,
as I already saw it when I got off the bus and expected that the sun would have disappeared completely by the time I reached the bench.
However, the sky is still tinted by the last lavender light of the setting sun.
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