Debt4k Sakura Hell ((top)) Instant

Tonight, I'll sleep in my capsule room—one tatami mat, no window. Through the thin wall, someone's TV plays a travel show about a town famous for cherry blossoms.

Four thousand dollars. Or yen. Or favors. At this point, the currency doesn't matter. The debt is a tree blooming inside my chest, roots through my ribs, petals choking my throat. debt4k sakura hell

The sakura doesn't care. It falls on the rich and the ruined the same. Pretty. Persistent. Pitiless. Tonight, I'll sleep in my capsule room—one tatami

I passed a couple taking photos under the weeping cherry tree near the station. She laughed, petals caught in her hair. He said, "This is heaven." Or yen

The cherry blossoms were blooming again. Falling petals painted the streets pink, soft as a sigh—but all I saw was red. Four thousand in the red, to be exact.