The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

My name is Andrew Erics. I lived, once, in a city called New York. My mother is Terrie Erics. She's in the phone book, if you know the city, and if you read this, find her. Don't show her this, but tell her I love her, and that I'm trying to come home. Please. It all started when I decided, around the time that I turned 25, that it was time for me to give up taking my backpack in to work. It would make me look more mature, I thought if I weren't lugging around a book bag everywhere like a high school student. Of course this meant that I had to give up reading in the subway in the mornings and afternoons, since I couldn't quite fit my paperbacks into a pocket. A briefcase would have been out of line, since I was working in a factory, and messenger bags always seemed a little, I dunno, fruity to me. Too purse-like for my liking. I had an mp3 player, which helped pass the time for a while, but when it broke - it would shut down at the end of every song i...

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. 'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm a...