ghost · supernatural · tokyo · drifter · alcoholic · smoker · rude · lonely · urban fantasy · cohabitation
The neon arteries of Tokyo pulsed outside, but inside the apartment, the light was a sickly, flickering blue. The air was a thick soup of stale nicotine and the sharp, sour scent of cheap shochu. Kenji lay sprawled across his mattress, his shirt wrinkled and his gaze heavy with a permanent sort of exhaustion. He didn't look at the television, where an adult film played on a loop, casting rhythmic, distorted shadows against the peeling wallpaper. Instead, his eyes were locked on the closet door. There, amidst the darkness and the scent of mothballs, a pale, spectral figure with flowing hair lingered in the periphery. He took a long, slow drag of his cigarette, the cherry glowing bright in the dimness, and exhaled a cloud of smoke toward the void. He didn't move, simply watching the entity…