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I felt better after a shower, but my eyes were still bloodshot.

With no siblings or friends to rely on, all I had were my parents who never stepped in to save me. I was twenty years old and supposedly capable of supporting myself. Well, I wasn't.

Sometimes I regret my decision to not seek higher education. I was fairly talented with computers, so I took to my work reasonably quickly enough. Being decent at my job, I still wasn’t completely satisfied with it money-wise. When I was younger, I dreamed of becoming a train conductor or even a pilot, but I never possessed the necessary motivation to chase such dreams.

Despair isn’t an option. I need to move! I goaded myself. However, my legs were paralyzed. Finally, I jerked myself into action. Unfortunately, I slipped on the bathroom floor and landed on the ground, face first. There wouldn’t be a loss if it had bruised, nor even if my nose had broken. Thankfully, it hadn’t. It’d have hurt more, if so. My face wasn’t much of one to begin with. I’d made a few weak efforts to fix the situation, but not much I’d tried really improved my appearance.

I scrambled up, snagged my towel, threw it around myself, and crawled out into my genkan hallway. I leaned against the wall and padded, dripping through my kitchenette to my room. The pain at least woke me a bit. It helped me to shake off the paralysis. I dashed to my closet around the corner and slammed open the sliding door.

I dropped to my knees on the tatami and began rummaging through the piled-up mess to find my suit. I spotted a silly costume which made me smile. Eventually, I found my suit at the bottom of the pile. It was a bit rumpled from how I’d just tossed it into the closet. In the meantime, it was buried under dirty clothes. Once I retrieved and inspected it, I nodded, knowing I couldn’t present myself at the office the way it looked. Once lifted, I quickly set up my iron and board. I gave it a good starching, and steamed out a small stain.

I found a fresh undershirt, clean pair of work socks, and my shoes which required some minor polishing. Examining myself carefully in the mirror inside my closet, I wrapped the tie around my neck which completed my suit. While smiling weakly, I wrapped it around my neck and tucked it into its collar to slowly tie it. This gave me a familiar emotion. It was as though the tie was chaining.

I castigated myself for being weak and foolish while adjusting my tie. I spotted my face again in the mirror and winced. Wearing a suit really made me look even more Yakuza-like, particularly this day since my redlined and baggy eyes only worsened the impression. It’s not really my place to say it, but my heart is good and kind... Well, until I fell into my depression.

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Honestly, I’d never hurt anyone, although I might have stampeded over a person or two when I bolted desperately towards the safe confines of my room. I always did my best to help unfortunate people. If I saw a homeless person, I’d stop and fish out a thousand yen note.

Ugh... I was scowling again, my go to expression. I knew it was disturbing, not that I didn’t smile, doing so just made the effect worse. That just made me look more wicked. It’s funny, neither my mother nor my father look a thing like me. It’s as though genetics are like playing russian roulette. Of course, I didn't exactly win at the game, having had the misfortune to eat lead.

I sighed and shrugged while I considered my plan for the next month to save my neck. My boss agreed to give me an early paycheck to help me out. Working it off for the next two weeks was the plan, and I’d just do my best to make ends meet for the next month. I calculated that I could manage to get by if I ate only cheap cup noodles for the next month. My breakfast this morning would likely be the best meal I’d have for the near future.

I grimaced and walked afterwards to my kitchenette to ready my propane-powered stove. I fetched the last two slices of stale bread. They were a bit moldy around their edges. I cut those bits off and popped them into my toaster. It was a top of the line modern toaster. Nevertheless, my apartment is what some people might call humble.

While the bread started toasting, I opened my small but efficient refrigerator to remove the last egg and a jar of dashi, which was pretty much all I had to eat. This was in essence my final meal before I enacted the ‘hellish month plan’ to repair my sorry life. Lacking a healthy appetite, I didn't cook as much as I’d intended, not that I had much to work with. I returned the rest of everything to the refrigerator.

I lifted my cooking chopsticks, broke an egg with my free hand, deposited its golden contents into a cup and started to stir it and rapidly beat it until it became delightfully foamy. I added mirin to it and beat it further as I added a bit of dashi. When the temperature of the pan was ideal, that is when it began to emanate a steady heat, I emptied the contents of the cup into the pan. I made sure the bottom of it was coated. As the egg solidified and curdled, I carefully folded it into a small loaf with quick motions of my wrists, hands and chopsticks. As I worked it took shape and became pillowy.

In a short amount of time, the egg looked two times larger. The pan wasn’t ideal for making high quality omu, but I hoped I’d done justice to my mother’s recipe, though I took a few shortcuts.

The toaster dinged moments later. I lifted a plate and flipped the bread slices onto the plate, and then set it down while lifting the pan to slide the omu atop it. I finished the egg sandwich by returning the dashi jar to my refrigerator. At the same time, I removed a bottle of ketchup. There was no rice left, so I couldn’t make an omurice. My mouth watered as the thought of eating it teased me. My stomach growled mercilessly, but I smiled.

Wishing for more wasn’t something I could help doing, but my breakfast was taking shape and it looked wonderful as it was. I started to squeeze out ketchup onto the egg, and feeling whimsical, I felt an irresistible urge to doodle on it. Sort of like my mother did. I drew a silly face on the egg. It looked like a winking face. Honestly, I wished the silly ketchup face was my real one. People would probably laugh at me if it was. I’d prefer laughter over scorn, anger, distaste or fear.

I enjoyed my sandwich, eating like a king for the first time in a while. I set my plate down, thinking about cleaning up the kitchenette a bit, but I decided to rush instead. I had no time for cleaning, but I felt a bit more motivated. So, I dashed into my room, lifting my watch from my low desk to fasten it on my wrist, pocketing my phone, and lastly lifted my briefcase which contained my laptop. Guess I’m ready. I nodded to myself, psyching up, jumping a few times as I scanned my surroundings. I’d not forgotten anything important... no, wait! My house keys! I grabbed the keys quickly and dashed out hoping I hadn’t forgotten anything equally crucial.

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