Mask of Identity
Yukio stared out of his window on the third floor of his master’s house. He stood, leaning against the tall window pane, and he ran his finger over the cold glass. It left a streak from where his breath had left a fogged the window. Irritated, he wiped it away with the palm of his hand, revealing a frozen landscape beneath his gaze. Small footprints scattered across the snow at the front of the house, and a few icicles stuck up toward him, having fallen from the roof above.
He felt like one of those fallen icicles. While he was a melting heap, stuck in the sticky snow, there were still many icicles hanging on, strong enough to endure the afternoon sun. Instead of looking down at all the snow, he now sat among them. Only he wasn’t one of them. He was an outsider, invading their territory and melting on top of them.
How he wished to be the snow instead. Then he wouldn’t have to hang on. He wouldn’t have to worry about falling. All he had to do was stay in his place and wait for spring so he could melt away into nothing.
Yukio realized that his hand was still pressed against the frozen glass, and it was so cold, he could no longer feel it. He tore it away and wrapped his fingers around his other wrist, warming them slightly.
“Yukio!” Master Anzai’s voice called up the stairs. “Your lunch break ended four minutes ago!”
Yukio backed away from the window sill. He hadn’t fallen yet… it was sometimes hard to imagine, and even harder to believe, but perhaps he could hang on?