Friday morning came with a thin layer of fog over the garden. Lyn stepped outside before work and counted the chrysanthemum's leaves again — eight now, each one a little rounder than the last.
"Eight already," she said softly, and Star wagged her tail beside her, as if she agreed. Pinkysan watched from the porch, her green eyes following a fallen leaf across the grass.
At the hotel, the morning passed quickly. A family from Osaka asked Lyn for directions to Nara Park, and she drew a small map on hotel paper, marking the path past the old pond. "The leaves should still be lovely there," she told them with a smile.
When her shift ended, Lyn met Linda outside the autumn market near the station. Wooden stalls lined the narrow street, filled with baskets of mikan, bags of roasted chestnuts, and strings of orange dried persimmons hanging in the cool air.
"Mikan or persimmons?" Linda asked, holding up one of each. Lyn thought for a moment. "Persimmons," she decided. "He loved the cake so much. Maybe he'll like these too."
They chose a small bundle of dried persimmons, tied neatly with straw, and the seller wrapped it in soft brown paper. "A good choice," the old woman said kindly. "These are sweet this year."
Back home, Star sniffed curiously at the paper bundle before Linda set it high on a shelf, safely out of reach. Pinkysan circled the kitchen table twice before settling into a patch of evening light.
Over dinner, Linda smiled at the small bundle on the shelf. "One thing done," she said. "Tomorrow, Nara Park?" Lyn nodded happily. "Tomorrow, Nara Park. Only seven days left now."
Outside, the wind had quieted, and the garden sat still under the first stars. The chrysanthemum's eight leaves waited patiently by the persimmon tree, counting down the days along with everyone else.
(To be continued)