Tsuzuki waits at the restaurant, apple pie untouched. Why is Tatsumi-san late? Tsuzuki eyes a clock — each passing second is forever.
Usually, Tatsumi just scolds Tsuzuki — but not yesterday. “Each time you are late, I want to jump up at any sign, any hope that you are near.”
And now Tatsumi arrives. “Forgive me for being late but, I had to buy this for you.” And he pulls out from his pocket, a soggy, muddy watch with “Timex” lettered on its face. “For your wrist . . . for you . . . please, allow me . . . ” And Tsuzuki reaches out with and exposes his right wrist.