When Yoshimi went up, she could see the Tokyo skyline in the far distance. And when she came down, she saw her bare feet dangling in air, above the cement floor. She usually stayed on the swing for about twenty minutes before taking a short cigarette break by the tree. The tree was in fact more like a tall, dead tree trunk than an actual living organism. Someone had cut off all of its branches, and with its roots buried deep in cement, it had nothing left except a few leaves still attached. Surprisingly though, they seemed green and healthy, so in her eyes the tree was still alive.

The tree was the swing’s only companion, and they both situated on the far side of the rooftop, behind a medium-sized water tower. And she was probably their only visitor in the entire building. There weren’t that many households in this old, run-down apartment to begin with – two old couples who seemed to have lived here all their lives and four low-income families. She never really spoke to any one of them, after all, she’d been here for less than a month.

Yoshimi stayed in a budget hotel called Toyoko-Inn in the Chiba prefecture for about two weeks after leaving Peter before finally stumbled upon a for-rent flier on a light post one day. The handwritten flier had read, “Clean studio for rent, 50,000 Yen per month, utilities included. With kitchen, shower, and a rooftop swing.” A swing on the rooftop… she murmured there and then, lost for a moment in her imagination. The prospect of relaxing on a swing on top of a building, or any elevated structure, had intrigued her and the advertised rent was even more attractive. Three days later she’d become a tenant at will with the flier and keys in one hand, and her belongings in the other. Although she was now almost two hours away from downtown Tokyo, she soon adapted to her quiet new life away from everything she knew. Peter was in another world from which she had abruptly detached and her family would probably have to truly abandon the idea of ever finding her. She needed time alone and she was actually doing better on her own. In the few weeks that she’d left, her career turned for the better. Her editor had appointed her to write small English articles on New York City’s street fashion, and she was landing supporting roles in small independent film productions. Yoshimi was now busier with life and had less time to think about what really happened in those past two years, and what had changed Peter.

It was only when she sat on the swing every now and then, gently pushing against the floor with her feet, rising high and low, could she sometimes let her mind run free and concentrate on him. She loved him. But she didn’t want to be reminded of such emotion anymore. The night when she stood by the door waiting for him to say something, hoping that he would stand up from the sofa and grab her by the arms, she was instead confronted with a distant, somewhat confused look. He seemed to not know what he had done wrong. Worse, he did not apologize nor even utter a word of explanation. He sat there staring back lethargically, as if the battle was already won and he didn’t even enjoy its victory. It was as though the hard fact was something she had to swallow in its entirety, without doubts, without questions, without even a comment. His almost coarse, apathetic inaction revealed a latent, heartbreaking indifference that one must run away from. There was no room for negotiation, only an absolute acceptance of her defeat was allowed, with a repercussion she had yet to fully comprehend.

She could never understand how a person could become so cold in an instant. The man she had lived with for the past two years was more cruel than any stranger she had ever met. Days leading up to that fateful night were completely ordinary, at least for her. They went about their daily routines, cooked together at night, conversed about their day, made love like normal young couples. Everything seemed ordinary, just like how she had enjoyed. But perhaps Peter was indeed an outstanding liar, concealing his emotions and the secrets of his affair without a trace. By then he had supposedly met the girl numerous times during the day, perhaps sometimes on the nights when her model shoots ran late. She could not begin to imagine what they had done together. It was simply impossible for a man like Peter to just “walk around the city” with another stranger girl for hours on end. Moreover, his unwillingness to even elaborate had already proven him guilty, and he was OK with the charge.

So that was why she left him. The door was already opened and he made no attempt to stop her. It was a matter of closing it behind her, leaving behind perhaps her most precious time of her life. The move was bold and selfless. She let the man she loved to pursue what he wanted. She didn’t know what it was, but she’d chosen not to make it her business. And suprisingly she had not regretted since. She was comfortable and content, for the time being. But whenever she went up towards the sky above Tokyo, she was reminded of him. There were no happy thoughts, or tears falling from her cheeks, just the mere idea of “him” – that he existed, somewhere just two hours west, below that sky they still shared. As her mind rocked back and forth along with the swing, perhaps, she was becoming a little more indifferent, too.