I see my reflection flickering on the glass of a closed shop. I look the same. 21. 5'6. But something is off. Looking around my vision begins to focus. You would think they would have more neon in Tokyo. What an odd district. Gazing up, I see the store's Japanese sign. The letters seem to form some kind of inkblots. I stare at the street light and for a second, I see a black fish. Then it vanishes into the shadows.
It's so bitterly cold. I don't remember. Dec. 7th. Even breathing aches. In complete awe I see my breath make an imprinted six fingered hand on the frigid glass. The evaporation reveals six etched letters. Z E P H Y R. Who the hell has six fingers? I begin walking east. Not a single soul out tonight. That's an odd place to put a Domo sticker. I keep walking. "Baka! Baka!" unknown. Who the hell yelled that? That's no way to talk to a lady asshole!
Who ever made this calendar took their time. Wednesday and Sunday. Odd Numbers? Primes? My pocket begins to vibrate. A