tokuon

It is now 1:15 am and I should be sleeping, but having spent half the night working and the other half of the night procrastinating not knowing what to do with myself, I feel like putting down on digital paper what I put down on paper over 10 minute minutes of coffee here and gyudon there. Click here for the first section: A Glass of Wine.

Sayuri had been frequenting the small cafe for some months now. She had moved into the neighborhood after selling her parents’ home in Chiba to be in a more convenient location within the city. As with many of the stations in the city, the area in the immediate vicinity was filled with shops, cafes, restaurants and other bits and pieces of clockwork that blended with homes and apartment buildings there further you walked. It was this brackish area between the shops and the homes that she found fascinating.

A week after she had moved into a small 1LDK apartment at what she called her little mura, Sayuri exited a store selling white linens intending to continue her exploration. A narrow alley caught her eye as she navigated the maze of pathways. It was lined with ivy and at the far end, where the alley seemed to intersect another small pathway, a black iron-cast sign above a glass door read Cafe Hands.

A heavy drop of water hit the top of her head. She lifted her palm to the level of her chin as she looked up past the rooftops into dark clouds that had gathered below the dull overcast sky. Yabai.

She started walking toward the cafe hoping it was open. On a Monday afternoon, it was very possible the place was closed. The black pavement started to get spotty as Sayuri picked up her pace. A moment later she was sprinting in her low-heeled sandal, purse clutched against her chest.

A bell tingled still air inside the cafe as Sayuri crashed through the door. Outside, the rain railed against the pavement and lashed against the door. And, failing to break through, it haurried away abashedly into a small ditch.

Sayuri stood behind the closed door in a growing pool of water. Why me? she thought. The small room she had entered held two tables with two chairs each, and a coffee table cut from the trunk of a tree with red sofas at either side. At the back, a counter sat four stools facing a small bar out of which a tall woman in her mid-30s came rushing.

“Wow, what a downpour!” the woman exclaimed as she handed Sayuri one towel and spread another out to soak up the water dripping from Sayuri’s skirt.

“I’m so sorry!” Sayuri apologized.

“Not at all. Not at all,” the woman looked up with a quick smile. Sayuri felt, somehow, that this smile on this face was reassuring, satisfying…but, satisfying for both its owner and its recipient. It was a fleeting whisp of a thought, gone as soon as it had arrived. “Please, have a seat…at one of the tables would be best I suppose. The rain was quite sudden wasn’t it? I bet you were caught by surprise. Did you hear the thunder?”

getting sleepy….will continue tomorrow….sorry!

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