I was living in Tokyo. My family life was great. My career was a mess. Not certain much has changed.
About a decade ago, I was leaving イオン near our home. I was furious with everyone who was pilfering my everything. A man on the corner was passing out personal tissue packets advertising a cloning conglomerate. Sweet guy. The kind of guy who opens the window to let a bug out.
I purposefully walked up to him. Pushed him across the corner until he fell. He was perhaps half my weight and 15 centimetres shorter. He was panicked. I was towering over him. I shoved him to the ground. He was shying away from me face up. Prone. He was huddled in the dirt, in a tree pit. His left leg mostly in the pit, his left foot was bridged to the pavement.
I raised my right foot. I prepared to bring my foot hard, down on his lower leg bone, easily snapping the bone in 2. I stopped.
I remembered what yo had told me. Yo was a distributor of fine leaf product all over the 関西。Yo enjoyed the District at least 5 times a day. He, as I, was recognised before we arrived in the District. Yo had pleasured one of the Union members to the extent that an ambulance had to be called because of her multiple, big Os.
That was Yo. Yo told me that the police left him alone because he only broke fingers. When subdistributors were late on their payments, he might break a finger. Feeling particularly generous, he would ask which finger the debtor wished to have broken.
Some day, I will hug that tissue man. I will hug him, tell him I love him, and ask for his forgiveness, if it is the last thing I do on your crappy little planet.
When I write something, I know it is true when it brings tears to my eyes.
