Chapter 7Michiko’s black sunglasses let her check out or ignore whatever she liked as she walked toward the travel agency. Arrangements could be made online, but she preferred going in person. She preferred leaving a human—not a digital—trail, if she had to leave one at all.
Her regular agent—a young man with spiky, dyed, and oiled hair—hopped up as soon as he saw Michiko climbing the stairs. He straightened his wide white collar and tight-fitting suit and waved her toward a partitioned area curtained by potted bamboo.
“Suzuki san, good morning. I have everything ready for you, and I am sure this time, it will be to your complete satisfaction.”
She pulled her sunglasses on top of her head and stared into his eyes. The young man looked down and ran his hand over his head. He managed a pr
