Knock-Knock!

“As I prodded towards my destination, walking through the streets of Japan, looking forward to the cramped lights, I fell. That’s right, I tripled, over a banana peel, the yellow monster awoke at the opportunity to redden my fair, white cheeks in shame in front of the masses of people surrounding me.

As I gathered myself together, picked up my bag, I thought of why the other people in front of me didn’t trip over the same banana peel. Did someone plant it there? Was I supposed to look like an idiot? Did someone want revenge on me? Was it an ex?

As all my accessories and daily essentials were put into my bag, I carried on walking past the shops, becoming a shadow on this dark night in Tokyo. The man did say that he would be in the cafe opposite the cinema – The Cafe Rouge. How could I trust him?

Pushing all of these unnecessary thoughts out of my head, and remembering the destination that had become a vague memory in my head, I composed myself, wiping the make up drooling from under my eyes. The tears and mascara had merged, forming a thick, gloopy paste which descended onto my shoe.

Despite the multitudes of people, nobody looked towards me. Everyone was immersed in their own talk; they all didn’t have time for anyone else except themselves. Was it that I wasn’t wanted in this city? Would my meeting in the cafe go well? Is it worth trying to persuade him?

Finally, I managed to weave between the multiple crowds and find a cafe. As I entered, my name echoed from the back of the cafe, the man roared with a vivid masculinity, his eyes solid and fixed upon my back. “What’s that chutney-like mess?” – he had immediately noticed and commanded me to answer what the paste was on his bag. Very particular, I thought. “The contents are safe,” I bleated quietly – his eyes didn’t move from mine; the same stern smile greeted me once again.

I handed the bag over, and gasped at the knife when it sensually stroked his suit.

I heard a groan, a clatter of the knife and my own footsteps retreating from the cafe – my hands bloodshot.

As I blindly ran out of the cafe, staring at my hands, I fell. That’s toght, I tripped, the strong grab from behind me pushed me into the floor. The man had got up – he was there behind me.

He dragged me back into the cafe, ignoring the various masses of people, with them returning the favour. The door closed, eliminating the alarm of a police siren, and everything else is a blur.”

I could tell the Detective knew I still had the bag.

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