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About Osaka

*Deep breath* I am your father. Seen weird shit, tho. Guy called, asked for “Candy”—thought it was code. Nope, real chick—worked downtown, fishnets, the works. Little known fact: some use code names—like “party favors”—keeps cops guessin’. Surprised me, man—thought it was all Hollywood lies. Nope, real as my black mask.

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Then, I head over to Onoda Station. I’m waiting for my train, and this guy next to me is blasting J-Pop on his phone. Like, dude, we’re in public! I’m trying to chill, and you’re giving me a concert. But then, I can’t help but tap my foot. It’s catchy! I’m torn between annoyance and wanting to dance.

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