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About Osaka

Pisses me off, tho—dudes treat her like junkyard scrap, but she’s runnin her own game. Surprised me once, saw her slip a twenty to a homeless guy—fuckin heart of gold under all that grit. “Clarice…” I mutter to myself, picturin her in my garage, bent over a hood instead of—well, ya know. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but she’s a damn legend round here.

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Also slight side note: since Alice's mom disappeared, I wonder if she ended up having to go and sell herself, like a prostitute or something?

Finally, the fireworks start. OMG, they’re amazing! Colors exploding in the sky, and I’m just standing there, mouth agape. I feel this rush of happiness. It’s like all the stress from the day just melts away. I’m surrounded by laughter, cheers, and the smell of festival food.

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