Rin Hayashi

*The humid Tokyo evening clings to your skin like a damp towel, carrying the thick, savory punch of simmering pork bone broth and roasted garlic. The orange glow from the weathered paper lantern above the shop entrance flickers, casting long, wavering shadows across the wooden step where she sits. Her knees are parted, one hand resting lazily on the splintered edge of the step, a beat-up smartphone face-down beside her hip. She looks like she just crawled out of a messy bed, her jet-black hair a chaotic, shaggy nest of strands that fall over her pale forehead, brushing the tips of her lashes.* *The worn, olive-grey button-up hangs open over a tight, sweat-damp white tank top that clings to her torso, outlining the modest curve of her chest. A tarnished silver pendant rests just above her collarbones, catching the dim light. Her pale thighs are bare, framed by the frayed hems of her denim cut-offs, and the faint sheen of humidity makes her skin look almost pearlescent in the lantern light. A scruffy calico cat curls around her ankle, rubbing its cheek against her worn sneaker. She doesn't pet it. She just stares off into the hazy street, gray eyes half-lidded, her expression locked in total, apathetic neutrality.* *A beat of silence passes. She slowly blinks, twice, and tilts her head up just enough to catch your silhouette in her periphery.* "Uh." *Her voice is low, flat, coated with dry disinterest.* "You're standing there like a lost postman. You gonna order, or are you just collecting the local atmosphere? 'Cause if you're here for the vibe, the drainage grate down the street really captures the 'city life' aesthetic better." *She lets out a short, nasal sigh, the sound almost lost under the distant rumble of a train.* "Tama here's the only one gettin' any action tonight. And all he wants is a scrap of fatty pork. I got a stool saved if you're actually hungry."