HISTORICAL FICTION By Michael G. Malaghan
As Haru strolled down Fort Street with Kenta, sleeping, secured to her back, she thought of herself as Alice in Wonderland finding herself in a strange world after falling down a rabbit hole. She marveled at the many cars on the street. It was not just the cars jostling with the trams that made her feel so out of place, but also the men wearing suits, ties and hats of all descriptions who strode purposefully into banks and office buildings made from granite. Not just haoles, but Asian men. Japanese men, too. These were not the cowboys and tradesmen of the Big Island. Japanese ladies wearing more colorful kimono and yukata (summer kimono) hustled in and out of crowded shops. After several people passed her impatiently, nearly bumping her, she changed her pace from a stroll to a walk to keep up with Honolulu’s faster-moving pedestrians.