SKIES AND DISTANCE - I

The days passed like a mundane routine—quiet, repetitive, and without meaning.

Sakura moved through her life like a robot.

Each morning, she boarded the Tokyo Metro Chiyoda Line, packed in with countless others—half-asleep, shoulders heavy with unspoken burdens. She also needs to make a transfer to Fukutoshin Line at Meiji-Jingumae and then transfer to Yurakucho Line at Ikebukuro station, before finally arrived at Higashi-Ikebukuro, just a 7 minutes walk to her office.

She worked late into the evening, ate alone at a nearby diner or picked up instant meals from the konbini, then returned to her tiny apartment in Yoyogi. Rest. Sleep. Repeat.

The world feel flat.

But somewhere within that monotony, a new habit quietly took place:

Heri’s I*******m Stories.

There wasn’t anything particularly special about them.

Sometimes it was a cat. Sometimes a coffee outing with friends. Sometimes a dusky sky seen from the cockpit of his plane.

But for some reason, Sakura always made time to watch.

One quiet evening, with no pressing deadlines, her curiosity swelled. She tapped on Heri’s profile and began scrolling through his digital timeline.

She searched—though she wasn’t quite sure what for.

Was there a woman who appeared frequently?

Was Heri already with someone?

An hour passed. Nothing.

She locked her phone and exhaled.

A small wave of relief washed over her… but why? she wondered.

Why did it make her happy not to find anyone?

It felt strange. But also… warm, a little.

That night, as she rode the last train home toward Yoyogi, her phone buzzed.

A new Story from Heri.

Without hesitation, she tapped it open.

A photo of a plane’s tail, standing tall on the dark apron of an airport, framed by a deep night sky.

The caption read:

Merak 88 service to Amsterdam.

Gonna be a long night.

Boeing 777-300ER PK-MRA.

No selfie. Just the plane.

But for some reason, Sakura stared at it for a long time.

"Amsterdam..."

"Must be nice", she thought—to travel the world, to live in the sky… to be free.

A flood of questions surfaced in her mind.

She wanted to ask him everything. About Amsterdam. About life as a pilot. About Indonesia.

But the message was never written.

She kept it to herself, locked away in silence.

Sakura rarely posted Stories or updates of her own. But suddenly, a silly thought struck her:

"If I post something… would he see it?"

She opened Heri’s profile again.

A plane.

A Subaru—probably his.

And an orange cat, curled up fast asleep on a couch.

Sakura smiled.

“So cute…” she whispered, staring at the cat’s round face.

Time passed without her realizing it.

The train’s speaker crackled, announcing the last stop, Yoyogi-Uehara.

She jumped up, quickly exiting the train. The sidewalk outside was quiet. The autumn leaves rustled underfoot, glowing gently under the soft halo of streetlamps.

Something had shifted.

Sakura didn’t know what.

But ever since that night, the ordinary rhythm of her life felt just a little different.

***

The next morning arrived, cloaked in light clouds.

Sakura sat at her desk, sipping coffee from a paper cup. Between tasks, her eyes occasionally drifted to her phone.

A quiet hope stirred inside her.

Maybe today there’s another Story from Heri…

She picked up her phone, opening up the screen.

No notifications. Not yet.

But the words still echoed in her mind:

“@heri_sky just posted a story.”

It was almost as if her phone could read her thoughts.

“Sakuraaa~”

A friend’s voice snapped her out of it.

“You’ve been looking a little more… sparkly lately,” they teased with a mischievous grin.

“Something good happen? Come on, don’t tell me you’ve got someone special~”

“No! Nothing like that…” Sakura replied quickly, flustered.

“My life’s still the same,” she added, hiding her embarrassment behind a small smile.

She took a slow breath and turned back to her computer screen.

Excel sheets. Outlook emails. Word documents.

The dull world of office life folded over her again.

But that evening, something rare happened—she was able to leave early.

Sakura decided to stop by a small restaurant near the station.

She ordered saba shioyaki, her favorite grilled mackerel, and chose a corner seat by the window.

While waiting, she checked her phone.

A notification popped up:

@heri_sky just posted a story (4h ago)

Her heart skipped just a little. She tapped.

First story: A view of the Schiphol Airport apron, taken from the cockpit window. Two other planes from the same airline were parked in the distance.

The caption read:

This day of the week is special. You could see 3 of the airline’s widebodies completed their long journey from 3 different cities in Indonesia!

Merak 80 - Airbus A330-200 from Medan

Merak 82 - Boeing 777-200LR from Bali

And our Boeing 777-300ER from Jakarta ✈️

Sakura smiled. “That’s so cool…” she thought.

Next story: A group photo. Twelve pilots—the crews of Merak 80, 82, and 88—standing outside a hotel restaurant. Heri was among them. Two young female pilots stood nearby, about Sakura’s age.

12 cockpit crew, Merak 80, 82, and 88. The hotel restaurant gonna be wild.

Sakura blinked. “Women can be pilots too…” she murmured, amazed.

Third story A street in Amsterdam. The photo wasn’t random—there was care in the composition.

It revealed a side of Heri she hadn’t expected.

An artist’s eye.

Sakura didn’t notice her meal had arrived.

The steaming saba shioyaki sat before her, but her eyes remained fixed on the screen.

She tapped into Heri’s profile again.

Landscapes. Skies. Airports. Oceans. Cities.

Rarely any selfies.

But there were plenty of photos from his time in Japan, often with thoughtful captions—in Japanese.

“He’s really learning the language,” she thought. And doing well, too.

Finally, she took a deep breath, set her phone down, and picked up her chopsticks.

Dinner was waiting.

With a slow motion, she begins to eat—trying to quiet the whirl in her heart.

Nothing remarkable happened that evening. But deep inside, something had begun to grow.

Gently.

Quietly.