My last evening, I walked until my left foot was cramped, thinking about why I had come to Tokyo. Every neon lit alley was filled with my internal chatter, conversations where I kept replaying him in my mind. Intrusively our dialogue looped until I couldn’t remember which parts came first. He seemed to be a master of ease, despite the chaos that surrounded him. When he sounded her name, everything seemed to fold into one another.
A Place I Can Never Visit
As he tipped his glass to get the last sip of the ginger muddled rum, "I haven't told you the story yet." “Not yet”, I replied.