Time: A few years ago.
Subject: A teenage girl, “Anna”.
Strawberry lip gloss.
Cheap floral perfume.
Groan of pipes.
Manicured, polished nails threaded in hair.
Taste of bruises.
Time: Sometime in 1995.
Subject: A middle aged man, “Sanada”.
Royal Ark Vanilla.
Lotte’s pear gum.
Expensive cloying cologne.
Hum of the engine.
Arm heavy around shoulder.
Taste of sleaze.
December 19 1996 6.47pm.
The sky is murky black except for the cluster of light from the street lamps and Tokitoh is cupping his gloved hands around his mouth and exhaling, complaining about the cold.
The apartment is just straight ahead and a few more minutes’ walk will get you back in the warmth. At least both of you are full are now, no longer hungry and cold as when you made the trip out.
It is at this precise moment snow starts to fall, just a few flakes. You note with curiosity how bewildered Tokitoh appears.
“Hey, Kubo-chan, what’s this?”
“Snow?” He echoes your word carefully.
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