I’m in the middle of eating breakfast when my alarm clock goes off. It startles me, running over my outstretched hand on the floor as I’m engrossed in a children’s show on the TV. I have to get out from under my kotatsu, warm but switched off, and crawl after it on my hands and knees.

“Ima okina-EE —”

“Enough, you little monster.” I wonder why it’s going off again. Maybe it has a snooze setting I haven’t figured out yet. I go back to devouring my stack of Texas French toast drowning in real maple syrup and topped with expensive but delicious strawberries. Worth every yen. I clean up my dishes, get dressed for work, turn off the TV, and pick up my purse … which is oddly heavy. Oh; it’s the coffee I bought the other night. Then it hits me that Bucho got rid of our beloved electric kettle. Crap.

My doorbell rings. It turns out to be my Flying Pig delivery, way earlier than I expected. The guy freezes when I open the door, but he’s polite and hands me everything nice and quick. “Nihongo jouzu desu ne,” he adds before he goes. I leave everything in the genkan except for the pumpkin and jack-o’-lantern tools. Not even the dark stormy weather waiting outside dampens my excitement about getting my kinders nice and messy.

Biking to Zozo and passing more and more stores with Halloween and autumn decorations, I see more than one person with face masks on. Half of my Zippo and Zappo students were mysteriously absent yesterday. I hope there isn’t something going around. I myself haven’t been feeling great. That Hitomu-related headache never fully went away, but I know how Zozo feels about sick days. Basically, they don’t exist. I’d have to pass out in full view of Manager for him to even think about letting me stay home. I’ll have some kitsune udon for dinner, then I should be fine. For now, I’m looking forward to my lessons with Asako and the Gotou twins. They’re different levels, but both of their books are getting into Halloween.

The lobby is empty, but when I enter the staff room Bucho is sitting at the computer. So much for signing in. “Ohayou gozaimasu,” I greet her. She gives me a strange smile and stares as I take off my jacket, pull half a dozen jack-o’-lantern tools from my purse, assemble them in my teacher’s box, squeeze my pumpkin into my purse space in the cupboard, and sit down at the bench. I hope it doesn’t have something to do with my three-quarter sleeved maroon shirt. It is not cold outside. If anything, it’s quite warm in here.

“Shibere-sensei, ohayou!” she says. “Very bad weather, today, ne?”

“Oh, it’s not so bad. Just a little cloudy.”

“Eh? But … short sleeves.”