Walking the streets of Los Angeles; climbing the mountains of Everest; surfing the waves of the Pacific; lazing around the gardens of Edinburgh; all in a bid to forget, but I still don't. It haunts me. My nightmares at night.

I am Kurt, Kurt Matzumoto.

- - - -

A clap of thunder brought me out of my reverie, followed closely by a shower of rain. I watched teary - eyed, as the coffin was laid to earth. Within the coffin, as I told myself over and over again during my periods of grief, was my brother. Not just any brother, but my twin brother.

My eyes were red and puffy from crying; my breaths coming out in rasps. And to cap it all, the mother of hiccups. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned around to face my father, Ching Matzumoto, the most - feared Yakuza in all of Japan. He was staring straight - faced at the undertaker.

'Sad day' he said, at last shifting his gaze to me.

'Mhmm' I replied, sniffing back a fresh gust of tears.

We became silent, each to his own thoughts.

A gust of wind sent me shivering.

'Come on son, let's go back to the car.'

'Why' I shouted, letting go all pent-up emotions. 'Why did he have to die?'

'Come on son, you will catch cold.'

'I don't care.' I shouted. 'Why did he die and leave me?'

'God gives, and he takes.'

'Why did he take him now, and leave me heartbroken?' I yelled, and went down in a swooning faint.



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