Keiko felt the late sunlight settle on the curve of his cheek. She tucked the watch into the pocket of her jacket and, without drama, kissed him. The town murmured, as towns do—happy, pleased, moving on.

“Better,” Tatsuya said at one point, turning a brass cog between his fingers, “to know where your screws go.”

Better, she thought, to keep a small light burning in a single window.