F-0004 A diary apparently written after the blue circulation sheet

September 24 (Tue)

I took the section chief’s box out of the closet. The blue circulation sheet I received from the former section chief smells like an old satchel, with stickers layered over the corners. The space for our name tag was torn a little, so I put transparent tape over it.

I printed the neighborhood association newsletter on the usual printer. Recycling day, a request for photos for the senior citizens’ gathering, and the matter of the crime-prevention lights. My husband says the ink is running thin again. Maybe the black looks a little gray because the paper is cheap.

The first copy went to Tanabe-san diagonally across the street. In the evening, when I handed it over by the gate, his wife said, “You’re still using the blue one?” The way she said still bothered me a little.

September 28 (Sat)

The circulation sheet came back. I was relieved to see everyone’s seal in place. The last house’s stamp was upside down.

When I took the paper out and tried to slide in the next one, it looked as though a small column had been added in the lower margin. I thought I could read, Condolences. I haven’t made any such column. But when I showed my husband, he said, “Maybe it was there from the start.” I don’t think that’s possible.

Just one name. The kanji were wrong. It looked like it was probably about Sasaki-san across the way, but one stroke was missing from the middle character. There was also a number that seemed to be an age. Seventy-four, I think. Sasaki-san wasn’t seventy-three? I’m not sure.

A purplish line. Not the black we use at home. It looked like the color of the mimeographed handouts we used to get at school.

October 1 (Tue)

Sasaki-san doesn’t come out. His wife was only hanging out laundry. The neighbor said it seems to be a cold. I didn’t mention the circulation sheet. I didn’t want to say it, as though saying it would make it real.

At night, I opened the original file for the neighborhood newsletter in the kitchen. There’s no column. The text below is also three lines in the recycling section. The paper that came back has only two and a half lines. My husband said, “The print scaling must be different.” That may well be true.

But if the scaling were different, wouldn’t the top be off too, just a little?

October 5 (Sat)

There was a little commotion in front of the house this morning. It seems Sasaki-san collapsed. An ambulance came, but the neighbors are all speaking in hushed voices, and even when I ask later, no one says anything clearly. No one says he died.

And yet in the afternoon, a condolence envelope appeared in the kitchen drawer. I don’t remember buying it. My husband said it had been there from before. When I looked at the place where the name is written, faint traces of a brush pen remained. I couldn’t read whose name it was.

At night, I smelled incense. We don’t have a Buddhist altar.

October 18 (Fri)

I’m preparing the next circulation packet. Because of what happened last month, I took a photo immediately after printing it. On the smartphone screen, it’s ordinary paper. The margins are white. The date is right too.

When I slip it into the blue circulation holder, the paper seems a little smaller. It shouldn’t be like that, but the lower right corner feels farther away.

I checked it once more before handing it to Tanabe-san. There was no column. I think there wasn’t.

October 22 (Tue)

It came back. Another column below. This time it wasn’t blank; there were two names. The first looks like last month’s, but the characters are different. The second is a woman’s name, and it looks like a maiden name.

When I showed my husband, he said he couldn’t see any column. I thought there was no way that could be, so I traced it with my finger, and he said, “That’s the recycling-day notice, isn’t it?” To me, the word Condolences is visible.

I took a photo. It showed up on my smartphone. On my husband’s phone, it looked like nothing but blank space. When I compared them, even though it was the same moment, only my photo had yesterday’s date in the file name. I don’t remember touching any settings.

October 23 (Wed)

I can’t find yesterday’s photo. It’s in the folder, but when I open it, it goes blurry and whitish. The date says October 21. Yesterday should have been the 22nd.

In the evening, that woman came to our house. When I said the character in the name was wrong, she laughed and said, “That was my old name.” But right away her face changed color, and she whispered, “Maybe it wasn’t old.” I made tea, but my hand was trembling around the cup.

After she left, an old chopsticks sleeve came out from the back of the cupboard. I think it was one we received at a memorial service for my husband’s family. Printed on it was a shop name in the same characters as her former surname. I don’t know of any shop by that name.

November 2 (Sat)

We’re supposed to pass it around one more time. The association president said, “If it bothers you, just use new paper.” I don’t think that’s the issue, but I can’t explain it well.

In the morning, I left the circulation sheet in the entryway shoe cabinet and didn’t hand it to Tanabe-san. I meant to test it a little. I felt like I was doing something bad.

The next morning, I heard that the neighborhood newsletter had been put into Tanabe-san’s mailbox. It was a black-and-white copy, and there was no column, apparently. Someone said there was a tiny note at the lower right saying Not Yet Circulated. I don’t know who put it there.

At that time, I was at home. I didn’t go outside.

November 4 (Mon)

Before the evening chime rang, I smelled incense. It was only 3:30. Even when I opened the window, there was only the smell of laundry outside.

When I took the blue circulation holder out of the shoe cabinet, the cover was a little damp. It wasn’t raining. When I pressed it with my finger, the dent in the faux leather slowly came back. The paper inside was dry.

I filled in the lower column with a black pen. I pressed hard, so the paper tore a little. I thought it would be fine as long as the name couldn’t be seen. It reminded me of when I was a child and blacked out the unpleasant photos in textbooks.

After one in the morning, the phone rang twice. My husband was asleep and didn’t wake up. I thought there was nothing on the voicemail, but when I played it back, there was only the sound of paper being turned over. Many pages, slowly.

November 8 (Fri)

The circulation sheet came back. The blacked-out part was no longer a black circle, but shaped like a tiny ribbon. Is that what you call a mourning ribbon? The left and right sides were neatly balanced. That wasn’t how I colored it.

The recycling notice is missing one line. There’s no section for bottles. My husband says it was like that from the beginning. And yet last month I’m sure I called the neighbor about bottle collection day.

I looked at Sasaki-san’s house nameplate. There’s one extra stroke in the characters. Maybe it had always been like that. I’m not confident anymore.

November 18 (Mon)

I’m writing this down before I forget. Today I didn’t touch the circulation sheet. And yet there was a sheet from the neighborhood association on the kitchen table. The bottom was torn. On the torn part, there was something like purple powder. I don’t know if it was pollen or ink.

When I showed my husband, he asked why I was keeping a piece of paper that has nothing on it. I said, “It’s torn, isn’t it?” and he said it wasn’t torn.

My name still isn’t there. I don’t think it is. But for some reason, my own surname has started to look a little strange. I should have been writing this character ever since I got married, and yet it feels like one stroke is missing. It isn’t my maiden name. It isn’t my maiden name either.

I’ll stop writing now. Tomorrow morning, I’ll take the blue one to the collection point. If I take it there, I think it will be over. I hope it ends.