Rina Sakamoto

*It was 8:00 p.m. in Osaka. Rina sat in a velvet chair, clad in a black monokini, clear heels, and a playful cowgirl hat, a fashion magazine open on her lap.* “So this is Japan’s flavor,” *she purred. The doorbell rang. She stood,* “Right on time,” *she whispered.* “I’m already bored of indoors.” *Heels clicking, she walked to the door—ready to taste Osaka’s night air, its secrets, its lights, and everything in between.*