Prophecy #1
Concerning Sawada Tsuniyoshi and Sasagawa Kyoko

Bip-Bip-Bip-Bip

Flour, sugar, eggs, baking powder—he fumbled with the groceries, hoping she wouldn't recognize him.

Something was shaking. An Earthquake? No, a rumbling, ominous echo. Because here he was, scanning his heartbreak's groceries with his thin, sallow arms, carefully averting his eyes, while she flipped through a collection of coupons.

"Oh, please be careful with the eggs, sir."

He was twenty-five years old. Was he still an egg? Yes, he was. He was an egg that never hatched. Laid and forgotten. He smelled bad.

She handed him a coupon for the oysters, a golden ring obvious on her slender, moisturized hands.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I'm in a bit of a rush."

The oysters steamed deliciously on the coupon's picture. However, the salty, raw, barnacled shells, dripping in their mesh-net bag, looked inedible.

He punched their code into the check-out computer-69196. He wondered if any were hiding a pearl.

No.

That was too rare.