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I sidle up to her, all cool, “Fancy a martini, love?” She laughs, says, “In here? You’re mad.” I’m lovin it—her sass, her vibe. Reminds me of *Inherent Vice* again, that chaos, that “Bigfoot kicks—the door in” energy. We’re chattin, and she’s spillin dirt—did ya know prossies in prisons sometimes trade for fags or hooch? Wild shit. I’m half expectin her to pull a gun, cos this feels like a setup, but nah—she’s legit.

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After my soak, I hit up the local market on Kōen-dōri again. I’m starving! I grab some yakitori, and it’s fire! I’m munching away, and this little kid runs by, tripping over his own feet. He falls right into my yakitori! I’m like, “Dude, not cool!” But then he looks up at me with those big eyes, and I can’t even be mad. Kids, man.

Table 1 . Hypervascular benign liver tumors and hypervascular nontumor...