"Hi, you’re here. Is everything ok?" I heard someone walk into my office. I was surprised because she hadn't shown up to our last appointment. 

She came in with a blank expression. No greetings. No smile...not even looking at me. 

I knew something was wrong. 

I asked again, "Is everything ok, Vivian?"

She sat facing the window, staring outside, her back to me. It was a rainy day -- cold, dim, and sad. After a long silence, she finally spoke. 

"I don't remember what she said exactly but she told me about a man, her lover.”

            "What? Who is she? A new visitor?" I asked. 

            "I met the woman on the beach." She didn't answer me but kept murmuring, "It was a rainy day. cold, dim, and sad..."

            I stopped writing, put my pen down, and turned in her direction. She tilted her face to me. Her eyes were like dark caverns, containing her secrets and stories. Her jade face was pallid but suffused with peach flush on her cheeks. 

            “It is a love story. They met each other in the most romantic way that I could ever think of.” She smiled and curved the tasseled strings on her crimson dress. 

            “I would love to hear it. You know I’m a fan of romance books. ” I said, hoping she would share the whole story this time. I pushed my glasses back up towards the bridge of my nose. 

            “Yes, I remember that! You’re a good writer, searching for inspiration every second. ” She giggled a little, never averting her eyes from mine. But I saw the shadows of discrete sadness shifting back and forth in her eyes. “I really hope she finds him again.” She sighs slightly. 

            “Have you ever lived in an apartment? They’re so narrow, cramped, and breathless, don’t you think?”

            “Not…not really...I don’t know... I guess.” I answered. 

            “I forgot your family’s rich.” She continued, “No wonder you got your doctor’s degree. I wish I could go to art school. Then I could learn more and not be stuck in this place.”

            “You are a… really, really, really  great photographer. Don’t think that way.” I tried to comfort her with flimsy words.

            “People like you always try to encourage someone like me with such words... even though we all know your words are powerless. Anyway, imagine such an environment for yourself. Let me tell you about this man and woman.” 

            “They met in a dingy hallway in an apartment building. They were both in a hurry and brushed past each other. The man smelled like fresh laundry. The woman said as she took a deep breath as if smelling a flower. When she recalled the first time she met him, the woman said that her first impression of him was the sea. Yes, he smelled like the sea. He felt like the sea, she said in nostalgia.

            The next time that they met in the hallway, the woman stopped him and asked a stupid question: are you from the sea. Seeing the expected confusion on his face, she stuttered to explain the product of her deranged logic and imagination. You know, like the kind of reactions when people see their crushes...” 

            “Of course, it sounds like something you would do. I still remember that model...”

            “Which one? I can’t remember. Common memory loss for me. Oh, wait, you mean that one? The black hair one?”

            “Yeah. Seems like you are getting better.”

            “Anyway, let me finish this story. So, even though the woman knew nothing about the man, she firmly claimed that she fell in love. How wonderful. She said that his voice was deep and gentle, and also sensuous. 

            They became friends. Getting closer to each other. 

Yume. 

            That’s his name. He said he came from an island in the fast east."

            "Wow. That's a beautiful name." I added, "Is it a Japanese word? I remember it means ‘dream,’ right? I can't remember.... it has been a long time since my last Japanese class."

            "Yeah. The bubble-like dreams."

            "Wait, so is it a dream? "

            "No. It is a real story. I did meet with this woman. I am so sure about everything. Can you just let me finish the story, please? "

            "Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry. Please." I knew Vivian would be angry at me again for questioning her. She was bad at controlling her emotions. 

            She took a deep breath. 

            "Ok. Ok. I'll calm down and I'm not going to get angry at you this time because I know how to control myself. 

So, anyway, the woman said Yume was a mysterious man from a distant country with the secrets of the sea. When the other tenants in the apartment went out to work and both of them were free, they then spent time together. They didn't actually do anything; they just looked at each other quietly most of the time. There were stories in his eyes, the woman said to me, he was someone like her. 

            ‘Are you new here as well?’ the woman asked. ‘I just moved in.’

            He didn’t respond. Yume seldom talked. They did not need to talk. Most of the  time they were able to read each other’s minds through their eyes. As if they were in the same body, sharing the same thoughts. But there were still some emotions that she could not understand in Yume’s eyes. They were hidden  but obvious. Was it sadness? Was it sorrow? Was it lament? The woman was not sure. 

            She didn’t ask. She was too afraid to ask, as she felt distantly that once the question came out, everything would change. 

            Everything did change. Or, you can say, it did not change.

            Yume was a quiet man. He only occupied a small corner of the apartment, of the world. A really small portion. Yume once said to the woman that she was the first one in the apartment to notice him. She asked why. But there was no more response. She then understood: she fell in love with a lonely man chasing for loneliness alone.

            Like a sparky spine, the faint fear of losing him someday grasped her heart tighter and tighter as the days passed by. She did not know what to do to prevent her nightmare from coming true. The only option left for her was to pray. 

            'Please, please don't take him away from me.'

            The insecure woman repeated such words to herself every day piously. She didn't know which god she put her hopes on. She didn't know whether all her prayers would work or not. But the day eventually came. 

            One day, Yume said to her, ’I’m going back.’

            ‘To where?’ She started to lose her head. 

            ‘To the place you come from.’

            ‘But why?’ 

            ‘My job is to protect her. Our job is to protect her.’

            She didn't know what to say. She was bewildered and rattled, close to tears. 

            ‘She must be tired to have Both of us. So I must leave. I want her to be happy. I want you to be happy.’

            ‘How could I be happy without you? ’

            ‘Time will help you. Goodbye, my love.’

            ‘Can I see you again? Where can I find you? Please. Please. Say something! ’

            Yume said nothing after that. He just quietly walked out of the apartment. The woman followed him, staring at his back through their whole journey to the shore. 

            It was cold. The sea was wreathed in mist. There was no sunlight. There was always no sunlight. 

            They left lines of footsteps on the beach. The black sand beach. The woman couldn’t stop tears dripping from her face. She saw Yume step on his little boat and sail away. She started to run, to the direction of him. But no matter how fast she was running, Yume seemed to sail further and further away.

            The faint lamp on the boat gleamed dully through the sea mist and gradually disappeared. 

            She went to the beach every day, waiting for Yume’s return. 

            And that’s also the place that I met her.” 

            “Why would that woman tell you about that? ” I asked, after a long period of silence.  

            “She didn't tell me. She was speaking to herself. When I saw her wandering on the beach the black sand beach, she was in a red dress, with long black hair. She said that if ever I saw him, tell him she loved him and also her name, Vivian.”

            “Vivian?”

            “Yes, my name, Vivian. ” She said.