“Saturday I’m going back to Japan,” the waitress who looked like a geisha said in my favorite Japanese restaurant at the Kitano Hotel.
“Forever,” she added. “Thank you for everything.”

I'd known her for at least ten years. She was fond of my godson. I was fond of her.

“Are you happy to go back?” I asked, but she ignored my question. The question was probably a tad too private.
Of course it happens often that you see people for the last time, but by telling me about her departure this waitress made me conscious about the inevitable.
A sadness came over me.