【英語の短編小説】The Lack of Circle（途中まで）

I was on the way to going back home from the funeral. My grandmother died two days before, was all of sudden but didn't surprise me.

The funeral was held only between her family. She had always gotten along with her friends but none of them appeared on it -nobody minds-.

I could have counted how many members attended it, but I don't remember how many they were. Even I have no idea of the approximate number. Their faces are greasily affixed to my mind. They apparently did not miss her so much but every single person seemed to have lost something. That would not be what her death had taken.

It was a so foggy day that I couldn't reach my eyes out to see my foot. I had no sense of her funeral, however, it's obscurely said that her death took something away from me, something like vinyl.

I wasn't hungry but was feeling as if I needed to fill an internal hole with coffee. My invisible feet were heading to somewhere unfamiliar and brought me in front of an unknown cafe -I suppose it was nameless-. I wasn't meant to carry myself into it but I somehow did.

Describing it which I hate, were the vintage red-evanesced couches Jack's Knives, rusted lumps Queen’s Headdresses, was a siphon King’s Axe.

There were four people excluding me there. The master kept his sights on polishing a cup not saying anything to me when I let foggy air into it. I sat down on the seat beside the window. Didn't glimpse the menu just said “coffee” in as faint a voice as he probably caught.

I remember the taste of the coffee so precisely that I can duplicate it. It was bitter. But quite different from the bitterness of coffee. It was like a taste of my feeling. And maybe that’s why I remember its taste.

Just after one swallow, I grabbed out a book - I don’t remember what it was- from my bag but I took a look at a meinu next to me. Somehow I saw a Chinese signature on the surface, was somewhat adorable. I guess she - I have to call it she- was missing one or another ingredient -sesame or something I think-, which incited me. I might have been queer because I was too afraid to hail her. I didn’t wanna bite her, didn’t wanna eat her, I didn’t wanna hurt her heart.

Two guys were at one table. One talking unilaterally to the another looked like a clientele and must have been the first visitor to that cafe. One listening to the another looked falling asleep. No idea what he was talking about but the first guy with the tunic did never stop talking and the another did never move his lips.

All I remember about the first guy is that he used a straw. I don’t remember if he has arms, what he drank with a straw or

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1年ほど前に英語で書いていた短編小説。
中途半端ですが、ここで力尽きてました。

我ながらなかなかグッド!だけど、続きを書くつもりもないので、ここに残しておこうと思います!

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