Yumi was the wife of a friend. Once, I joked that the sound of her name embodied the both of us – you know: you, me – but she looked back at me as if she didn’t understand. Of course, she couldn’t, for I had fallen deeply and secretly in love with her.
The things which transpired and which I am about to relate are all true, and although I know that some of what I did is indefensible, I hope that people who know me might someday see this and think less harshly of me.
Yumi’s husband Ken was transferred to our office from the Tokyo section. Close in age and with certain life experiences in common, we soon became friends. It was only natural that I would meet his wife eventually.
Yumi was tall for a Japanese, and slender. She had the kind of beauty that grew on me the more I saw of her. It was in the way she moved; even the most simple gesture could make my heartache. Before I got to know her she seldom betrayed much emotion but her elusive smile was enchanting and as radiant as the sun emerging from behind a cloud.