Stray
tortoiseshell cat skids across Kabuki-cho street.
And down this block, everyone is some kind of wobbly supporting character sizing you up for
something – at least three scoutman vying to be your new best friend, a probably-Chinese
woman in a heavy down coat; her face scowls, her hands massage. Cat breaks for
a tiny space in-between a Burger King and a building that has no name, no sign,
just a glowing white light for identification. All people and places here now: a
side-story. Main plot distraction. Bad endings…
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