Excerpt: Tokyo By Pen

The narrow back alleys of the tokyo neighborhood were barely wide enough for two cats to walk side by side, and were astonishingly vertical. Neon signs lettered in kanji and cute mascot logos ran up and down the sides of the buildings like flourescent spiders, and fire escapes were littered with boxes, plants and airing laundry. She always wondered what would happen if there were an actual fire in one of those places, considering what she had just seen as entertainment was a fireball lit by an amature on the third floor of the building, and shuddered.
Speaking of the devil, she saw the amature himself, still in costume, resting on a box on the fire escape on the back of the club. He was busy texting and smoking at the same time, occasionally switching hands and showing ambidextrous phone-texting talent.

Aya got to the bottom of the narrow metal stairs and waved up. She caught his eyes, which got bigger and he nearly dropped his cigarette, but quickly caught it in an effort to remain cool.
She neatly stepped over the various obstacles, high heels digging into the ridged aluminum stairs. Her knee length white dress blew prettily in the chilly autumn air. When she got to the third landing, she smiled and proffered her hand. The bartender-monk shook it, bewildered.
Half-japanese, she switched over to her mother's language fluently and softly explained her intentions:
to interview him for her latest article.
“I find interesting people all over tokyo, and listen to their story, get pictures, and write about it.”
“I don't think I'm that interesting, but thank you. Why did you pick me?” he said sheepishly, with typical japanese modesty.
“Actually”, she smiled guiltily, “I just wanted to come clubbing because it's been awhile. I got a great picture of you doing your fireball and thought, 'I just have to use this!' Anyways, you seemed like an interesting person to talk to. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?” She got a notepad and pen from her white synthetic snakeskin clutch.
“So you work for a newspaper or something?” he raised his eyebrows, impressed.
“Something like that”.

Across the street, behind a window, a pair of eyes glimmered sinisterly at the holy pair of angel and buddhist monk. The mind behind them was thinking very unholy thoughts indeed.