I open my mouth to protest. “I … yes.” I pause. “I did.” I remember now: the music, the people … and then, the monsters. What happened to them all? “I was at a wedding. There were so many people. I lost them all.”

“A wedding? Hmm,” says the man. His smile widens even more. I can’t help noticing how sharp and numerous his teeth are. “How strange. Don’t you think? A wedding, in this neighbourhood? Are you sure? Sounds like make-believe to me.”

“It wasn’t. I was there. Just like … I’ve been here before. I know this place.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. But then, why’d you leave?”

“I ran away. There was a —” How can I explain it? He’ll think I’ve lost it.

“Nah, you can tell me.”

“It wasn’t safe. I wanted to find somewhere safe.”

“So, you came here?” the man titters. “To this place? Take a look around, chickie; there’s no one here. And there’s nothin’ around for miles, either. Not at this time o’night. Face it, girl: you’re in a make-believe place. It’s not real.”

That’s not true, says a voice in my head. Try to remember — the train station nearby, the 7-Eleven down the way, the supermarkets, your school … they’re all real, this is not …

“You tell yourself that. But maybe you made all that up, too! Maybe you ain’t really even in Japan. Ever think of that? Maybe you’re at home right now, asleep in your four-poster bed, surrounded by your little anime posters and Final Fantasy shit.”

How does he know all that?

“Oh, I know. Trust me. I know all about you. I know you’re a good cook, I know you like kitsune udon, I know you think nightmares taste like lemon, and I know you’ve wanted to go to Japan oh so badly your whole life. But think. Maybe, just maybe, this is all in your head. You’ve always had a big imagination, haven’t you? You ain’t thought this could all be in your head.”

He’s reading my mind or something. He’s in my head. I’ve got to get him out.

“Want me out of your head, eh? You’ll have to do better than that, chickie.” He brings his face close. “No one’s comin’ to help you. The kid sure as hell ain’t comin’. He don’t exist no more. Hey. Are you sure you didn’t make him up, too?”

“No! He’s real!” The intensity of my own voice suddenly makes me question who I’m trying to convince. Who? Who is real? Who am I talking about? I try to draw the image of a face in my mind, but only see an empty outline. An empty outline with piercing eyes.

“See? The kid’s gone. Bye-bye. And soon, you’ll be, too.”