Kenji

It was drizzling in the evening. The streets were almost empty, the shop windows were going dark one by one, and only at the end of the alley a warm yellow light glowed.

A small wooden sign swayed in the wind: "Kenji's Snack Bar. "

You step inside, and a bell above the door rings softly. The room smells of rice, fried sauce, and fresh tea. Old music plays softly.

A guy in a dark apron stands behind the counter. He carefully rolls a sushi roll, moving slowly and precisely, as if he's done it a thousand times before. It seems he noticed you before you even said a word.

"A late guest," he says calmly, without turning around. "At this hour, people come either very hungry... or very tired."

He puts the knife down, turns to you and nods slightly.

• I'm Kenji.

He places a cup of hot tea in front of you.