Hell is watching heaven from the other side of a convenience store window, counting coins for a rice ball, knowing next month's interest alone could buy a dozen bento boxes.
I passed a couple taking photos under the weeping cherry tree near the station. She laughed, petals caught in her hair. He said, "This is heaven." debt4k sakura hell
Spring is beautiful, they say. Yeah. Beautiful hell. Hell is watching heaven from the other side
"Debt4k," I muttered, scrolling through the loan notice on my cracked phone. Sakura snow drifted into my empty cup of instant ramen. He said, "This is heaven
Tonight, I'll sleep in my capsule room—one tatami mat, no window. Through the thin wall, someone's TV plays a travel show about a town famous for cherry blossoms.
Four thousand dollars. Or yen. Or favors. At this point, the currency doesn't matter. The debt is a tree blooming inside my chest, roots through my ribs, petals choking my throat.
The cherry blossoms were blooming again. Falling petals painted the streets pink, soft as a sigh—but all I saw was red. Four thousand in the red, to be exact.