Dozo -continued from last post-

(By the way, this blog has turned into a rather abstract account of my time here in Tokyo. Apologies)

“Ahhh” he finally breathes. “You should go to the student affairs office and tell someone. Is there anything else?”

I lift my head. It’s all heavy. I gaze at him, willing the rest of the words to roam out like freed animals, but my mind has become blank and frozen.

“No, that's all." My smile is a little wonky. I reason that my askew smile is a direct reflection of the level of honesty in that statement. My eyes wander across the room again, picking out details in the clutter. There are so many books, flashcards, piles of corrected essays, little trinkets. Nothing interesting. I return to what’s important. The gentle man and I stare each other out once more, before I thank him, bowing my head slightly and making my excuse to leave.
Making an excuse is like moulding a ball of play dough. You just reshape the same lie to fit a different situation. Don’t mould it too much, it’s best left simple. I gather my belongings. Just a red and white striped shoulder bag that I stole from outside a charity shop. Stole. I glare at it for a split second, and smile warmly once more at the nice man.

It is quite clear that we both feel this has been an unsatisfactory meeting. But it’s too late; I’m already drifting towards the door, my legs creaking. The wooden door frame framing my body. Curving, fragile. A smile splinters across my face once more and I’m out. I’m running. My feet pound the concrete. Flip flops are disintegrating. They refuse to hold my feet, I think. They’re trying to escape.