Fiction
Welcome to Osaka
By Tristan Carr
“Hi, welcome to Osaka! Would you like a table or hibachi today?” Adam noted the man’s greying hair, thinning at the temples, and the hard look in his eyes as he smiled and said a table would be great. The woman to the man’s side—though not quite at it—shared that hardness, with her permed brown hair framed over a dull face and thin lips. As Adam walked the two over to their seats, the ostentatious earrings on the dull woman jingled against themselves. Overcompensating for an unwanted night with an unwanted man, the woman dressed up. A tight dress and shiny things would distract people from the way she gritted her teeth as her husband asked for the drink menu. These two were long overdue for a divorce–or maybe a coroner’s report, judging from the daggers the woman stared at her husband. Oh, Adam liked that idea. He laughed silently to himself when he saw the woman white-knuckling the chopsticks despite no food being in front of her. The man ordered a bottle of cheap sake, surely thinking he was getting the fanciest thing on the menu. “Absolutely sir, I’ll let them know.” Adam loved this stupid job. It paid just enough for him to get his textbooks and some McDonald’s from time to time, which was fine for living in the dorms. But the main thing he loved were the people like the hard man and angry woman he just met. He would sit them in their seats, then lean back behind his little counter and work out the details, filling in the gaps. A little flip pad emerged from his apron pocket, along with a charcoal pencil. It worked faster than pen or graphite, important for only having maybe a few minutes for each sketch. He made sure to get the greying man’s broad shoulders, the way his eyebrows furrowed when he tried to read the anglicized Japanese. But his favorite so far today was the woman, so he gave her due diligence. She 58
