I went to Uji in search of Autumn. I knew her number wasn't for another couple of weeks. Still, I thought I might find her backstage preparing, warming up for the start of her show.
I walked along the river for a long time. The water was green and cool. But I could see only the white burn of the Summer sun across its surface.
I crossed the Amagase Bridge, wood and cable bound together in an unlikely friendship. Autumn wasn't on the bridge.
I cut into the forest, a narrow path, muddy from a rain long forgotten. I thought for sure I'd find her here, maybe with a large block of ice and a fan rehearsing an October breeze. It was warm and moist in there like a kiss with the tongue after a cup of tea. The forest was throbbing with the heat. Autumn is a classy dame; she wouldn't stand for this vulgarity.
I left the forest and wandered back to town and the train slightly embarrassed by my foolish endeavour. Autumn wasn't even in the theatre, let alone on stage. An overeager fan.
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