The door opened and Mizuki got in, pressing number fourteen. At times like this, she missed the elevator ladies in Japan. Pressing your floor number wasn’t hard work, but having a lovely smile greeting you when you entered the lift certainly brightened up everyone’s day.

•

‘We take many things for granted,’ Mizuki murmured to Shoji. She took another sip of her tea. ‘Until they’re taken from us, leaving a gaping hole.’

•

Stepping out of the lift, Mizuki walked to the telemarketers’ section and clocked in with her attendance card. All the telemarketers worked in tiny cubicles in an open office segregated by low partitions. Each desk had a telephone, a stack of papers covered in names and phone numbers, and a pen for marking. Everyone was busy with their lists. Occasionally, someone would stand up and exclaim, ‘I scored a deal!’ and everyone was supposed to clap.

‘It’s to boost morale,’ the manager had told Mizuki when she started. But when there were more and more days when no one clinched any deals, the absence of cheers dampened everyone’s mood. Mizuki grew used to seeing new faces each week.

‘No one lasts long in this job,’ a girl who used to sit next to Mizuki had told her on her last day. ‘This is the kind of job you do for a while, until you find a better opportunity.’

Mizuki took off her shawl and folded it, then set it aside. She looked at the thick stack of paper in front of her. As the days went by, the contact list felt more and more intimidating, given the number of people who slammed the phone down on her.

Perhaps it was time to give up. Then again, what was she worried about? They were only voices. They couldn’t do her any harm.

She took a pen and a piece of paper. It was the first Monday of the month, so the list was full of new names. Mizuki glanced over them. Her list started with G: Gorski. Gortman. Gorzynski. Gosey. Gosha. Gosier. Gosling. Gossack. Gossard. Gostowski. Her index finger grazed the paper, smudging the ink. Then a name caught her interest.

Goda, Takeshi.

The name sounded familiar. She was sure had heard it before, but when? Was he a family friend or a former classmate? Takeshi Goda, Takeshi Goda … Ah, wasn’t that the big bully in the Doraemon series? Giant, yes, that was his nickname, but his real name was Takeshi Goda.

She supposed that real people were bound to have the same name as famous cartoon characters sometimes, but it was still strange. Oh well, it could be worse. Like Nobita Nobi, though she doubted anyone would name their child Nobita Nobi.

With new-found curiosity, Mizuki picked up the receiver and punched the numbers on the keypad. She didn’t have to wait long. The person at the other end of the line answered the call on the second ring.

‘Goda speaking.’

‘Good morning,’ Mizuki said. ‘I’m Sarah, calling from HFC Marketing Services. Is this a good time to talk?’