I check my phone: 8:47 p.m. I flip through a few channels. Finding nothing of interest, I go through the cupboards in search of a snack. Nothing really grabs my interest except some microwave popcorn my sisters brought. I don’t own a microwave, so I throw my coat on over my pyjamas and head to 7-Eleven to use theirs. Of course, I purchase a few things to make up for it: a bag of barbecue chips, some umeboshi and sweet corn onigiri, two boxes of Korean brownies, two cartons of vanilla Essel Super Cup, and a carton of Lipton’s peach iced tea. I greet the cashier, who is as tall as Lieko, but seems eager to speak English with me. Three weeks, I think to myself as I head back home. Three weeks of a Lieko-free workplace. Ever since the Hitomu thing, she has been completely ignoring me, and I her. She doesn’t even eat lunch in the staff room anymore. It’s kind of like she’s ignoring everybody. Maybe she plans to do so until spring when she becomes the new manager. Fine by me. I’m so glad I’ll be gone by then.

The popcorn and brownies are done by the time I finish my Spirited Away DVD. Not sure if I should watch something else since it is Saturday tomorrow. Busiest day of the week. Curling up under my kotatsu, I polish off the onigiri, chasing them with the barbecue chips as I boot up the new laptop to watch some good old Jump! Maru Maru Chuu episodes. Perhaps Yusuke Yamamoto ducking from Matrix-agent-like “hunters” will get my mind off things. It doesn’t. Maybe a big bowl of Monkey’s Heaven will make me feel better. It means sacrificing my ice cream, and I don’t have any grated coconut, but I haven’t had it in years and my brain craves distraction as much as my stomach craves … well, it’s craving everything right now.

Much to my dismay, hunting for Kahlua and filling the apartment with the scent of burning alcohol and banana does not stop the slew of endless questions racing through my mind like a runaway bullet train: What did this guy look like? How tall was he? How deep was his voice? What colour was his hair? His eyes? I groan. Right. Japanese. My height. Maybe. Geez, I sound like Manager. Hyuu Kinomoto: a famous actor’s first name and a shoujo heroine’s surname. Guess now I know why he insists everyone call him “Manager.” But enough judging my boss. If I don’t figure this out, I’ll climb the walls … and then Manager will complain about all the claw marks.