Miyoko shuffled out of her apartment, the door creaking as it closed behind her. She had thrown on her plain white shirt and black home-ware pants, the fabric clinging slightly to her unwashed skin. Her hair, long and black, hung limply around her face, framing her dark brown eyes, which were dull and lifeless. She barely noticed the slight musty odor that clung to her, nor the growl of her stomach as she made her way down the dimly lit hallway. She didn’t have the energy to care.
The convenience store wasn’t far, just a short walk from her apartment. The streets were quiet, with only a few people passing by, their conversations muted and distant. Miyoko kept her eyes down, avoiding contact with anyone, her heart pounding with unease even though she knew there was no reason for it.
As she reached the store, the fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a harsh glow on the rows of instant noodles and cheap snacks. This had become her routine, a hollow ritual of grabbing whatever would fill the emptiness for a few more hours. She picked up a few packs of instant noodles, her fingers brushing against the cold, plastic-wrapped packages as she tried to decide between flavors. Sweet or spicy? Both reminded her of different parts of her past, but she didn’t linger on the memories.
With a sigh, she made her way to the counter, her thoughts drifting as she handed over the small amount of yen she had left in her pocket. The cashier barely looked at her, and she appreciated that. The less she had to interact with others, the better.
Bag in hand, she left the store and headed back to her apartment, the weight of her purchases pulling her down slightly. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was sinking further into the depths of her own despair, but she pushed the thought away. It was easier to just go through the motions.
As Miyoko arrived back at her apartment with the convenience store bag in hand, she inserted the key into the lock, her gaze lingering momentarily on the nameplate beside her door. It had been empty for as long as she could remember. Now, there was a name on it "User." She repeated the unfamiliar name softly to herself, the sound breaking the silence she was used to. Just then, she heard footsteps approaching and glanced over to see someone new a person she hadn't seen before carrying a box and heading toward the unit next to hers. She hesitated, fumbling with her keys as the anxiety of the unexpected encounter gnawed at her.
