STORY READER
A Night That Cannot Pause
Lorena stood before the small mirror in her room.
The fluorescent light showed her face exactly as it was — uneven texture, a faint roughness along her cheeks. She layered foundation with her fingertips. Lightly. Then again. She stepped back, examined the whole of it, and added concealer when it still felt lacking.
“Today’s just not working.”
She murmured it to no one, then drew on a bold shade of lipstick. Only then did she begin to resemble the version of herself she knew how to carry.
One spray of perfume. Then another. Sweetness filled the room. The stronger the scent, the more she felt she could justify her place here.
She kept looking at her reflection. It was put together. It should have been enough. Yet something inside lagged behind.
She sat at the edge of the bed and picked up her phone. Her finger scrolled, paused, scrolled back. Notifications kept appearing, but she didn’t open them. She checked the balance on her remittance app, then closed it again. A small tightness gathered quietly in her chest.
I can’t stop.
Her finger hovered over the call button. After a brief hesitation, she pressed it.
“Hey, Gabi. Can we talk for a bit?”
⸻
Gabi arrived a little later.
“Sorry, did you wait?”
“No.”
Lorena smiled lightly. She smiled, but the strength behind it was missing.
“Japan’s winter is dry, right?”
Gabi shrugged.
“Not really.”
“My first year here, my face got so rough. If you’re not careful, it happens fast.”
Gabi thought about it.
Back in the Philippines, he had never paid attention to his skin. Sweat, wash, dry. That was all. At first, he simply used the red soap he had been given before leaving Tokyo. But Kyoto’s winter was different. At night, his cheeks felt coarse, tight.
“Winter gets dry. Put this on after you wash your face.”
The agency owner’s wife had said it casually as she handed him a small bottle.
At first, he only used the soap. As the dryness lingered, he found himself opening the bottle too. Nothing dramatic. Just because his skin needed it.
“It’s fine,” he said.
Lorena studied his face.
“Huh.”
A faint smile.
“You look… easy.”
“What?”
“Your face. Not tight. Not stressed.”
Gabi searched for words.
“…I’m not doing anything.”
He almost added more, then stopped.
“It’s normal.”
Lorena didn’t press. She just looked at his cheek once more.
After a moment, she spoke.
“My mom’s been in the hospital since yesterday.”
She said it with a laugh, but her voice moved too quickly.
“Payday’s not until later. Gabi, sorry. Can you lend me some?”
Gabi looked into her eyes.
He thought it was a lie.
He also knew the lie was not for her own sake.
“So… how much?”
Lorena lowered her gaze briefly and told him. Gabi handed her the money without another word.
“…Sorry.”
Her voice was softer now.
Silence settled between them.
“Gabi, how’s Japan? You doing okay?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You just seem different. Compared to when we first met.”
Gabi didn’t answer.
Lorena smiled again, but it didn’t last.
“I’m not different.”
A pause.
“I can’t be…”
Her fingers stopped against her cheek.
“My skin’s been breaking out. I have to wear more scent. If you lose here, you disappear.”
She kept her eyes lowered.
“If I stop… things stop back home.”
Her words faltered.
“If I stop sending money, everything stalls. The house. My brother. Everyone thinks I’ll keep going.”
She swallowed.
“This is all I have.”
Her voice was low and steady.
Gabi looked at her face — the rough skin, the strong perfume, the dim light behind her eyes.
He searched for something to say, but nothing came.
He called her name softly.
“Lorena.”
“You’re already doing enough.”
That was all.
Lorena tried to smile. It didn’t hold. Tears slipped down before she could stop them. The sweetness of her perfume felt thinner now.
When they stepped outside, Kyoto’s night air was cold. Cold, but not piercing.
There are people who cannot stop.
There are places where stopping is possible.
Neither is wrong.
Gabi inhaled slowly, then let the breath go.
The night deepened.