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Previously

…The line went dead. I lowered the phone and stared at the river. The water kept moving, indifferent to the sudden storm in my chest. The past is a language we are always learning to speak. I had come to Japan to learn a new tongue, but maybe the old one was calling me back before I had finished my lessons. That evening, I stood outside the dojo after everyone had left. The sliding door was closed, and the wooden sign swayed slightly in the breeze. I bowed deeply, though no one was watching, and whispered, "I will return." Then I walked back to my room, packed my suitcase, and booked a flight to Riga for the next morning.