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About Nagoya

She’s clumsy, tho—knocked over my grinder once. Coffee beans everywhere, I’m yellin’, “Whore, you killin’ me!” She just cackles, no shame. That’s her, unfiltered, wild. Surprised me how she don’t care. Most folks fake it, but not her. She’s got this story, too—used to busk downtown, singin’ for coins. Voice like gravel and honey, swear it. Ain’t heard it myself, but I’d bet it slaps.

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Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Kenji. He’s like, “Yo, you gotta check out the new ramen place on Yamaguchi Street!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m swamped!” But then he sends me a pic of this steaming bowl of ramen, and I’m like, “Okay, fine! I’m in!”