A dawn ride home. A sunrise of pink mountains, white sky. Peaks tear at cloud like a knife, allowing morning through. As innocence sleeps, I imagine her without clothes.

My companion is twenty years my junior. She had a little too much to drink at the party and was ill prior to boarding the shinkansen. She is now nestled against my warmth, my comfort. Smiling, almost purring. She is thirty-two, but it still feels wrong. I tell myself she`s an adult and can make her own decisions but I continue to feel as guilty as hell. Hell is where I`m going. I remember when such a liaison felt legitimate, when the women were my own age. That time has passed. Her neck is so thin. She is so fragile undressed, and gives herself so completely, selflessly, as if dreaming. And I am so old. Old, lonely and in need. She…