Smile

The young girl in the school uniform sitting across from us on the train out of Kyoto puts her manga back in her purse and stares at the passing houses out the window beneath the almost lowered shade.

When she notices out of the corner of her eye that I am ducking my head a little to also watch the scenery beneath the lowered windowshade, she reaches over and raises it a notch, without making a big deal out of it.

I nod, acknowledging her kind gesture, and she favors me with a shy, touching smile that I can help but return with a smile of my own.

As soon as I do, though, I recall the seaweed snacks I'd been munching just before boarding the train, and I wonder exactly how much shit I've got stuck between my teeth.