Every day is a gift.
 
Every hour is golden.
 
Every minute is a diamond.
 
One golden hour.
 
The golden hour.
 
It's what doctors call that period of time after a trauma has taken place, when the client hangs on the edge of life and death. The actions taken during that period of time often mean the difference between a slide into death, and successful treatment, leading to survival.
 
-----
 
"Mister Nakai?" the voice says softly.
 
The voice is a low baritone, harsh, but somehow gentle.
 
"Mister Nakai, wake up."
 
My eyes open, and I look into the scarred and brutal face of my savior.
 
"Mister Nakai," the man says. "You were poisoned by a massive overdose of opiates. The dose should have been lethal, but I was able to save your life."
 
I turn my face away and close my eyes.
 
So it has come to this. Even death is going to be denied to me.
 
"Mister Nakai," the man says, standing up at my bedside. "Your condition is stable, so I'll be remanding you to the care of your normal physician. I'll be waiving my usual fee for this operation, as I have a. . . personal stake. . . in this case, considering the other doctor involved." I hear the rustle of a coat being put on.
 
"If I can say one more thing," the man with the scarred face says, "let me offer you my sympathies on the death of your wife."
 
He walks out of my bedroom and closes the door behind him.
 
-----
 
Two names and two dates, written in black marble upon the stone of the columbarium.
 
"Saki Nakai. 1989-2023."
 
That's all that's left of the love of my life.
 
I stand in front of the black stone and stare into those etched words for a long time, resting my hand against the cold stone. Behind me, I can see the man from the hospital watching, waiting for me to try something stupid, so he can restrain me.
 
They say I'm under suicide watch. They're keeping an eye on me to make sure that I don't try to join my wife again. I've gone past caring.
 
They can keep me alive all they want. I'm already gone.
 
"Hisao?"
 
It's a flat, emotionless voice, one I know very well. She's standing behind me, her scarlet eyes regarding me with blank dispassion, a bouquet of white lillies held in her arms.
 
"Rika," I say.
 
-----
 
"We missed you at the funeral," Rika says, as she pours milk and sugar into her tea and stirs it.
 
"I was in the hospital at the time," I explain. "Recovering from a severe opiate poisoning."
 
"I heard. I'm glad to see you've recovered." She picks up her teacup and takes a small sip.
 
The years have been kind to her: she was an eerie, strange girl in her teens, looking like a ghost. Now that she's older, her silver hair and paper-white skin give her a kind of mature, exotic beauty. "You look good," I tell her.
 
"Thank you," Rika says, sipping her tea.
 
Silence. This much of Rika hasn't changed, I guess. She never was one for conversation.
 
"Why did you do it?" she asks.
 
"Do what?"
 
"Try to kill yourself," Rika asks.
 
"Who said I tried to kill myself?"
 
Rika puts down her teacup and fixes me with that harsh, scarlet-eyed stare that I know so well. I avert my eyes and look down at my mug of coffee.
 
We finish our hot drinks in silence. The next twenty minutes pass by without a word of conversation being spoken between us.
 
"I miss Saki," Rika says at last.
 
"Yeah," I admit. "I do too."
 
My vision blurs as I stare into my empty mug, studying the patters of the coffee grounds against the white porcelain. Another ten minutes passes by without a word being spoken.
 
"I miss her, but I don't grieve for her. I grieve for you, though," Rika says.
 
"Why's that?"
 
"Because Saki's still alive, even though she's gone. You're dead, even though you're still here."
 
She stands up and leaves a thousand-yen note on the table. She bows to me silently, turns, and walks out.
 
I sit there in the empty booth for another half hour until the nurse from the hospital finally gets bored enough to insist that I leave.
 
-----
 
Every day is a gift.
 
Every hour is golden.
 
Every minute is a diamond.
 
Whether it's a doctor working in the golden hour to save a patient, or a friend giving one diamond minute to turn around an injured soul, sometimes it's all about the timing.