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About Tokyo

The punters, though—grubby lot, skitterin’ in like thirsty lizards. One geezer, stank of petrol and regret, kept yellin’ for “Chrome!”—dunno if it was a girl or a drug. Made me laugh, the wanker—proper mad max vibe, lost in his own apocalypse. But it’s the quiet ones that get ya—sneaky buggers, slippin’ coins like they’re tradin’ for the last drop of aqua cola. “Mediocre!” I’d shout in me head, judgin’ ‘em, but who am I, eh? Just a bloke watchin’ the wild.

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By the time I got back to the office, I was exhausted. My head was spinning with all the craziness. I plopped down at my desk, and my buddy Taro popped in. He’s always got some wild stories. He started telling me about this ghost he saw near the old mine. I laughed so hard, I almost cried.

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