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About Fukuoka

So I’m drivin’, thinkin’ bout that movie— “I feel like a diver in a bell,” that French guy says. Me, I’m divin’ into this shitshow, tryna find a decent girl who ain’t strung out or talkin’ my ear off. Last week, I pick one up—cute, red hair, legs for days. She hops in, smells like cheap perfume and regret. I’m happy for a sec, like, “Fuck yeah, jackpot!” Then she starts yappin’— “My ex this, my pimp that.” I’m like, “Sweetheart, I ain’t your therapist, let’s keep this transactional!” Surprised me how they always got a sob story. Guess it’s part of the gig.

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After that, I head back to the office, and my boss calls an emergency meeting. Great. Just what I needed. We’re all crammed in this tiny room on the second floor of the building on Minami Rinkan Avenue. I’m sitting there, trying to focus, but my mind’s racing. I’m thinking about that cute barista again. Should I ask her out? What if she says no?

Toni-Michele Beaudoin Obituary - Norwich, CT