Soredemo Ashita Kareshi Today

We stood there in the noodle aisle for twenty minutes, talking about nothing — the best flavor of ice cream (he said vanilla, I said you’re wrong, it’s matcha ), whether pigeons have feelings (he argued yes, I argued they’re government drones), and why vending machines look sadder at night.

I thought about it. “I’m not okay . But I’m not dying either. Maybe that’s enough.” On Day 29, I couldn’t sleep. My ceiling had a water stain that looked like a rabbit with one ear. I stared at it for an hour, then threw on a hoodie and walked to the 24-hour Lawson. soredemo ashita kareshi

So I made rules.