>I stopped flipping through the pamphlet, not saying anything for a moment. Masaru leaned back again, chair squeaking, his face stone cold. He didn’t like how accurate my reading was.

“Mukankaku,” Masaru said.

“Excuse me?”

Masaru smiled, “it’s an anime show Akira and I like,” he tapped his hand on the yellow haired figure pinned to his jacket. “You’ll have to check it out sometime. Might answer some of your questions.”

“Which questions would that be?”

Seeming to relish being in control of the conversation again after my accurate characterization of him, Masaru changed the subject, “What about Akira?”

“What about her?”

“Have you been able to read her?”

&ld...

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