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About Tokyo

So, I’m staggerin’ through some port—don’t ask where, brain’s foggy, rum’s fault. Streets smell like fish an’ regret. There’s this gal, right? Red lips, skirt shorter than me attention span. I’m thinkin’, *Jack, you’ve seen worse deals.* But hold up—reminds me o’ that line, “Can you live without knowing?” Aye, makes me wonder—does she choose this? World’s a cruel bugger sometimes.

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Later, I decide to treat myself. I head to this little café on Kuzuha Street. They’ve got the best coffee. I order a cup and sit down, just enjoying the moment. But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my mom. She’s like, “Did you remember to pick up the laundry?” I’m like, “Mom, I’m a baker, not a maid!” But I love her, so I promise I’ll do it.

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