who_leo

14 September 2010

Tomoko's fractal

            Tomoko waited for her train ride. It wasn't usually this late. That last encounter with the Yakuza had left her a bit shaken up. She didn't know what to expect next. All she knew, was that he wasn't here on the platform this evening, as he usually was.



            "Gosh!" she thought to herself. "It was so much easier when he was the business guy reading the paper that never did anything exciting. This whole thing... I just can't take that type of violence."

            Woooshhhhh!

            Train to Chiba Prefecture now boarding.

            This was her. Nothing short of her usual pace, she strode into the car. It took her a minute to get herself situated. It was pretty much empty inside the car, which felt kind of strange. 2 am trains are usually empty though, but it was different without him. These last trains riding the line for the last time, spend an hour stopped, in dead silence. These cold machines, waiting to eat up the inhabitants of the city, chew them up and spit them back out. Some stay in longer than others, that's personal choice though.

            What was it about him that changed the way this train felt? Without anyone else but her, it felt cold and desolate. This ride in particular was one of the most taxing. She couldn't wait to get off at her station. Walk to the little noodle shop, sit at her booth and enjoy a warm bowl of...

            Before she knew it, she'd passed 2 stops already. She wasn't far. Next stop is hers.  A great yawn envelops her, and she is forced to close her eyes for just one second. She dreams with his smell, and his warmth. Even if it's for just a second, it's like she can feel him, right there. With the way he  held her after the attack, she knew the texture of his trench coat, and that of his lapel. She could never forget that scent.

            When she comes to, she is safely seated at the train station. Her train station. She looks around, and sees someone going down the stairs. It's just the backside, but she knows it's him. She gets up and starts to run across the platform, balancing her way along the with her shopping bag and work things filling her hands.

            "Stop!" She yells as she gets to the top of the stairs. There is no one there. Just an empty staircase  She can still smell him on her. She can almost feel his fading warmth on her clothes. She closes her eyes, and imagines his face. What she can still remember.

            One step follows the next. She makes her way down the dim lit path, just as many times before this, and many more to come. Posters on the wall of movies long past, are falling off, while others are constantly covered by the next big thing. Her footsteps reverberate against the walls, a light buzzing from the electric lines and neon lights above can be heard. Random signs are still lit. Karaoke bars, and Love MO's (motels) are always open.

            Her booth is available, as always. Kindly, the old lady that hosts the place shows her to her booth. It hasn't occurred to her to ask her if she ever gets some rest, it's as if she's always here, working.

            Noodles, they always warm her up. This texture is the best part, the way they  just slither into your mouth. So soft, so sweet, and the contrast with the sour broth tonight was just delightful. Best noodles in town. Shes buzzing just with the first taste. She enjoys it to the last drop. Slurping to the very end.

            After her meal, she sits there, and wonders about the man and his fancy trench coat. Why would he just leave her there like that, without a hello, or a good-bye. After all that had happened. She just wanted to know he was alright. His boss seemed kind of upset at the outburst, and said there would be consequences to be paid. There's only so much one can do.

            The warm tea gives off a bit of steam as she brings the porcelain cup to her lips. She slightly squints from the warmth, as it slowly slips between her lips, warming her up insides. Her reflection on the polished wooden table is a bit warped from the woods formation itself. She sips again, wondering what the symbol was hanging off his lapel.

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