Lovers in Yokohama

Bicycle. Yokohama.

Saturday, 14 August 2010.

The tire died on a sullen afternoon.

She had walked out on her lover, abandoned him in the smoky haze of the cafe. Too many little lies poured over cups of coffee. She had to move quickly before his voice, his words, would wrap around her and call her back and she wouldn't be able to leave.

She had barely escaped when the wheel fell to pieces. She heard his voice from the door of the cafe - muffled through the crowd, but it was him. He was approaching.

The bicycle was tossed against the fence. She ran to the street. The voice, closer, closer. A taxi her messiah.

She had meant to go back the next day, and then the day after that, and then the day after that. She could not afford the risk of his voice still lingering there.

BOOT!

Boot keyring. On the way to elementary school.

7 September 2010. The boot had served the boy well for three months. It was garish enough that no-one ever tried to steal it and made him feel cool that he could pull of something so uncool.

But then there was this girl with a ponytail that went 'woosh' and his heart went BOOM! She laughed at it.

The colours now clashed a little too much. It was a little too big to be cute.

It was ugly.

His hand hovered over the bin. He couldn't condemn his key chain buddy to its grimy depths. He hooked it onto fence, hoping that someone would give it a home and that Ponytail would kiss him.

Already he hated whoever found it.

Station Teddy

Teddy bear. Steps going to the crosswalk at Sendai Station.

A March morning when a girl came to a slap bang conclusion that 12 is too old for teddy bears and promptly demanded her first pair of heels.