Dining Alone in Tokyo
by Wyatt Greer
Rain blurs the neon glow of a Tokyo izakaya sign into streaks of electric blue and crimson against the wet pavement outside. Inside, the warm amber light catches the edge of a fogged window where soft steam rises from a pot of simmering broth, hinting at the heat within. A salaryman in a damp grey suit sits alone at a small wooden counter, his reflection ghostly in the glass. His hand rests near a chipped ceramic mug, steam curling lazily from its rim, while a half-eaten plate of edamame sits beside it. Outside, a cyclist pedals past, tires hissing on the slick asphalt, their umbrella a dark dome against the grey dusk.
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