Perfect Shards

It has been over a week since arrival, but I almost couldn’t tell. These days are too busy for me to take any time for myself. Moving from Oregon was not easy when I’m on my own, but I’m glad my mom has been supportive all the way, and it’s a career decision after all – Not to mention that Tokyo looks stunning all day long.

There is a vivid impression that the city is always alive. Crowds of people are moving everywhere, the streets are packed with neon lights and interesting places at every turn. Why would I mind moving here alone then?

I wish my dad was more on my side here. Anyway, I just need to find the keys. Here they are. And.. we’re home! This studio was a perfect pick: It was the exact size, good condition, great little balcony overlooking the busy street while not compromising any of the quietness here – Never mind the only window here is facing the window of my neighbor, Mr. Maeda was his name, I think- Oh, here he is, watching TV, and I can hear a bird chirping in his living room - That alone is worth envy!

The only problem here could be the bathroom’s plumbing, which is spreading an unpleasant smell, but that is the first thing on my to-do list for the weekend – For now I’ll just continue unpacking and go to sleep. I don’t want to be late for work.

For someone like me, this lifestyle I’ve found is truly rewarding. I can get used to the precise schedules quickly enough. And if I keep my head focused on work, I will be just fine. Dad says it’s going to be lonely here, then he goes on, repeating stories of his friends who had come here, then returned home shortly after. He is completely off-point.

The truth is that I really don’t care if it is lonely here to begin with. I like solitude. It works for me. I may not know anybody here, but then again it was almost the same story back home, and I didn’t mind – In fact, it was for the best; I could concentrate on my studies and internships, while other people from college were either having all kinds of drama with their partners, or complaining about their depressing loneliness. Now I know some of them that had serious conditions, and probably needed care, but in my case, I’m not remotely depressed, and I’m thankful. I only found that my loneliness is not an obstacle when I am focusing on my career. That’s what I like about Tokyo: It’s very comfortable here to be lonely.

And it’s working. I just returned from work, ate my extra-spicy noodles, and found that I would faint if I lay my hands on anything to unpack it, so I simply sat in my little balcony, and my eyes followed the moving cars and bicycles as the moon watched them with me.

***

The weekend came faster than I noticed. I woke up late, checked my plumbing, watched videos, and read how-to articles, and from my understanding, it wasn’t my apartment’s problem. I’ll need to talk to Mrs. Nakano, the old landlady, and see if she can do anything to fix it. I can do that on my way out tonight.

Fortunately, it was still afternoon, and I had all the time to explore Tokyo after sunset. My parents were going to video call me and make sure everything was fine with the money they had sent for my first month’s rent, but they have just texted me that they had contacted Mrs. Nakano and that everything was in order. I’ve originally scratched Ginza district off my list, but I guess I can do some exploring.

Now I don’t want to spend too much tonight. The main goal here is to have fun.

I caught a glimpse of my neighbor’s window again. I couldn’t see much as the setting sun cast its orange light on it. I could only notice a few little origami figures standing on the windowsill. They were very intricate and really adorable to look at. I’ll take a better look at them when I come home.

I saw an adolescent boy on my way out of the elevator. He was standing in front of Mrs. Nakano’s apartment.

“Oh, hello, Miss Bennett.”

“Hey, Takashi, is Mrs. Nakano inside?”

“She has just left not ten minutes ago.”

“Alright, I’ll stop by some other time then.”

***

The building was completely silent when I returned. I walked straight to the elevator, as it was too late to check Mrs. Nakano. I kept checking the photos taken in the park, and those ones in the museums, all while yawning like I haven’t slept for a week. There was this other photo I took in the middle of a busy square, which stood out for me. I really liked how no one seemed to care that I took photos in the middle of a crowd. I felt anonymous in some way, which was a nice and interesting kind of freedom. I might send some of those to my folks tomorrow. Now all I need is a bed.

I got in quietly and threw my clothes on a nearby chair. I was setting the alarm to 5 A.M. when I saw my neighbor again. He was sitting on the couch watching anime on his TV, his back facing me, and closer to me were the origami figures. He looked like he was living alone as well. I noticed more paper figures lying around, and one looked somewhat familiar. It was a flamingo, covered in many colorful patterns. I instantly took out my phone and found a similar sculptured bird I had taken a photo of in one of the museums. With a smile on my face, I almost desired to share this photo with my quiet neighbor.

My body collapsed on the bed, and I fell asleep thinking about wanting to congratulate Mr. Maeda, for crafting this amazing work.

***

The alarm was shut off, and I lay on my bed, looking at the little sunlight reflection on the ceiling. I really wanted to find a way to talk to Mr. Maeda. I appreciated his art very much, and I admired that him living alone clearly didn’t affect his passion.

I was still two hours early for my work, so I decided to walk. I wanted to know if I can find out when he goes out – Maybe then we can talk. Or no.. I don’t want to plot this. I can come after work today, and simply knock on his door and express my admiration for his work, then see where the conversation takes us.

I was ready to go out when I went to get another look at his window. I could see his bird’s cage from this angle, standing on the windowsill, chirping next to the little figures, while he was watching someone talking about the weather today, which seemed that it will turn quite stormy this afternoon. A sudden feeling of queasiness poked me. I stood straight, went out of my door, and stood for a moment in the corridor. A thought came by that he was perhaps ill or something, and doesn’t move around much. That’s why he sits on the couch often. But it was a far-fetched guess. I don’t even know if he lives alone.

“Mrs. Nakano, how are you?”

I told the old lady about the plumbing, and asked her about Mr. Maeda. She said that he lives alone and that he had given her this month’s rent not ten days ago. She warned me about the weather today as I walked out the building.

After about nine hours, I rushed inside to escape the pouring rain, and entered my studio. Hearing the wind blowing this aggressively outside was niggling, but I heard a louder, shattering sound as I was taking off my jacket. I looked at the window, and found that a tree branch seemed to have fallen from a nearby tree, and was big enough to smash into Mr. Maeda’s glass window. But to my true fright, he was still sitting there, in front of some kids show. The bird’s cage was damaged, and the little bird managed to escape it, fly around the living room for a moment, and get out in a blink.

After my repeated knocking on Mr. Maeda’s door proved useless, I ran down the stairs to Mrs. Nakano, who went upstairs with me, knocked to no avail, and finally called emergency.

We were both standing in the corridor when an ambulance arrived and broke down the door to get in. I went inside my studio and nearly stumbled upon some half-unpacked boxes. They were already moving my neighbor’s body out the room when I reached the window.

It was a long day, I was watching the body taken downstairs, as Mrs. Nakano was speaking over the phone. She told me later that day, that she had called cleaners to come and clean the apartment. It was already night when their vans arrived.

“It’s not unusual for people to go like this here.” She told me, sipping some tea in the corridor as people in full-body protective suits were gathering belongings and sterilizing the apartment. They were from a lonely-death-cleanup company, something that I was told was common as well. I gazed outside the window, to find the shattered glass and origami figures were removed, and instead of furniture, several men in protective suits were cleaning the place. I told the landlady the unpleasant smell had disappeared, before going out to sit in my balcony and look at the cars moving in the distance, as the many far and little city lights lay under the weight of an overcast night sky.