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About Yokohama

Once knew this escort, right? Called herself “Raven,” ooooh, fancy! Worked outta some dingy flat, smelled like cheap perfume. Told me – get this – some bloke paid her to just *talk*! No hanky-panky, just yappin’! “I like to be thorough,” he says, like in *Zodiac*, ha! Made me laugh, then mad – what a weirdo! Who’s got coin for that nonsense?

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So, I finish the croissants, barely. They look decent, I guess. I pop ‘em in the oven and dash out. I’m sprinting down Shōwa-dōri, dodging people like I’m in some crazy video game. The streets are packed! Everyone’s buzzing about the festival. I can smell yakitori and sweet dango in the air. My stomach’s growling louder than a train on the Fukuecho Line.