Riko felt ashamed of having to return there, to the house where she grew up. Without the person she grew up with. It seemed unfair that there were people invading her home.

Home. You left that place wholeheartedly and you still call it home.

Her shivering hand pushed the fence and slowly entered the little garden. There were still the same untouched orchids : yellow bright orchids. She knelled down and caressed them. She couldn’t remember the last time she treated something delicately.

She stood up in front of the front door. A knot in her stomach and a lump in her throat, she failed to find any words or excuses. The door opened before she could knock on it.

An old lady, in a baggy kimono that used to look red and white, appeared on the porch. Her face went from annoyance to perplexity to relief. Riko stood there awkwardly and whispered :

—Evening, ma’am. I’m Riko.

The woman brought her shaky hand to her mouth to shake off a sob. She then grabbed Riko’s arm and pulled her in a hug. Riko let her head sink in the lavender scented kimono, her arms tightening around the waist of the woman. They froze in that intimate hug. Riko had forgotten how much she loved those kind of hugs. The ones that warm your heart and that give you enough courage to face the world. The kind of hug that is infinite, radiating care and feels like home. Her partners never offered her such a thing.

Then she started sobbing, really bad that she was afraid the woman’s kimono would get wet. But the woman didn’t push her, she just held on to her, patting her on the back and caressing her died hair.

—I’m so sorry, I screwed up everything. I’m so sorry.

—Alright honey, let’s talk about it inside. Can we ?

They stood up and Riko almost fell. Her head spined and an acrid taste filled her mouth, making her nausea go worse. She took little steps with the help of the woman and entered the house.