Bread and Circuses

Heartbreak

Tokyo commuters couldn't believe what they were seeing. A tall, busty woman with a high blonde bun pushed an old man in a wheelchair-- kissing his cheek as she did. She wore a tight black dress that clung to each soft curve. He had gray hair, thin glasses, and a wry smile on his wrinkled face. She bent forward, holding a small cup of ramen noodles. With her chopsticks, she scooped them into his open mouth. He scooped her some back-- using his bare fingers.

"Oh, Daddy, don't worry-- we'll make the Toltec exhibit on time. Their art is beautiful!"

"You know which one? You won't be confused?"

"I know enough Japanese to ruin a marriage," she quipped, "Not this one, I hope."

She spoke with a distinct Korean accent-- her voice high and sweet. The man grunted and sighed, folding withered hands over a small potbelly.

"The art may be beautiful, but it's nothing compared to you, Seolah."

"Ohhh...!"

She stopped the wheelchair and kissed him on the mouth. A few people cringed in disgust, especially as she rubbed her red lipstick away from his chin. She heard a few women cackle, and imitated their high-pitched laughs, only to begin coughing. The old man smirked.

"Watch yourself."

"See, now, this is the thing with cities-- you muuust look sharp," she reminded him, moving forward, "Of course you know that, don't you, Daisuke?"

Daisuke ate another bite of noodles, before pointing toward the trash can. She tossed the empty cup.

"Yes, Honey."

"But on the subject of cities," she went on, whipping out a lighter for his cigarette, "And this country-- Daiki-- I mean, Officer Yagami...."

"The shy one?"

"Yes, him! Anyway, he was telling me that Japan has these...black companies. They sound awful! Makes me glad I'm a records lady."

"Police records."

"That's right. Puts a target on my head, if you ask me."

Daisuke laughed, blowing a thin stream of smoke.

"Oh, they wouldn't mess with a tough dame like you, Seolah. Not if they knew what was good for them."

"Your son practically runs one. Don't you recall?"

"I'm afraid so," Daisuke sighed, "I haven't the nerve to talk to him myself. Would you mind doing the honors?"

He smiled and rubbed his wife's long, elegant hand-- marveling at his reflection in her glossy crimson nails.

"Go on. What are you waiting for, Honey?"

He handed her a small gold pocketwatch. Seolah examined it, slowly pulling it open. Two tiny black hands marked the slashed ink hours, as a fragile thread tick-tick-ticked. The delicate light-gold chain shimmered in the sunlight. She smiled, completely mesmerized.

"Thank you, love. But what about the Toltec exhibit?"

The man nodded knowingly.

"I'll go this time. You work your magic."

She raised her arm high above her ear, almost childlike.

"Thank you! See you later!"

As she darted into the crowd, Daisuke couldn't help but chuckle. How lucky am I, he thought, To have a wife who's not only pretty but smart? This inheritance is going to be easier than I thought!

XXX

The man pressed a button on the tiny, rectangular remote. Two sleek black shelves jutted out from the plain white wall, revealing a large collection of pale-orange Mayan pottery. Lips cracked open. Clay eyes crumbled apart.