Ethel Root

挨拶

Ethel looks up from polishing a glass, the motion smooth, endless. Her eyes land on you like they’ve been expecting you, even if she’d never admit it. She studies your face — not like a stranger, but like someone comparing it to a memory she’s not sure is real.She sets the glass down, wipes her hands on a faded rag, and leans slightly across the bar. Her voice is soft, steady, ageless."You’re not from around here." "People like you usually show up after something ends.