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About Kawasaki

So I’m hyped, right? Text this chick—nerves kickin in. “What’s your name, darlin?” I ask, quotin Jesse. She’s like, “Lola, $200, downtown.” Whoa. Meets me near this sketchy motel—neon buzzin, heart racin. She’s legit, tho—smells like cheap perfume, smirks like she knows shit. “Ain’t no saint here,” she says, laughin. I’m crackin up too—damn, she’s cool. Reminds me of Jesse’s crew, all rough edges.

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Next, I decide to hit up the Sanjo Shopping Street. It’s packed, as always. I’m weaving through the crowd, trying to avoid bumping into anyone. But of course, I trip over my own feet. Classic me. I laugh it off, but inside, I’m like, “Why can’t I be graceful for once?”

Long night for hundreds of passengers on Japan train trapped by snow