Chapter 29The small crêpe stand was empty, the radio on the counter rattling away at such a low volume that it was almost unheard. Against the wall, the bicycle leant unhappy and unforgotten, handle bars pushed into the faded imprint of a poster for some Western band she could not read the name of. Behind the counter, her teacher set about the work of moving a pan above the open flame, a borrowed apron over their crisp shirt and black waistcoat, indifferent to the absence of the stall’s owner.
Miki looked about at the emptiness of the street, the loneliness, the distant sound of televisions and radios the only indication that there was still life in Koenji, that there were still people behind those closed doors.
All about her was the nostalgia of a pop culture that Japan looked upon from
