"Singin' a song for the broken-hearted…"
It's very creepy that I'm listening to Bon Jovi's It's My Life
when I sense a particular presence in the room. The morning light spreads pale radiance through her, mixes its gleam with her own still beauty.
The thing about Lillian Alexandra Anderson Satou is that I've seen her aged 14, 18, 20… at all ages up to…
"Yes, dear man, you've seen me all the way to the end. I was still good at 85, from your account."
There's a certain wistfulness there. This time, she's part 18 and part 81, I can't tell how much of each.
"What can I do for you, ma'am?"
She tends to make me sit up straight and add a little more courtesy.
"You can just call me Lilly, you know. Was I really such a silly person?"
That takes me aback. I'm not sure what to say. I try anyway.
"No, ma'am, Lilly. I think we all make mistakes. Sometimes, we make them young."
"I've often wondered how it would have turned out."
So have we all, I think. That music box… it's been a great inspiration, and a sad one. I make a non-committal sound.
"It worked out well for everyone else, I suppose."
"I'm not sure about that, Lilly."
"Better than for me. Ah well, you get on with telling Akira's story, then. Read to me the next time I'm back. I shall enjoy that."
"I too, ma'am."
"Thank you. Goodbye for now."
And then the room is a lot less bright.