One day in August, the weather was clear and dazzling.
Upon waking in the morning, Yukino Ritsuko opened the window of her room, the leaves glimmering in the morning light. The weather forecast said today would be sunny, with a cool breeze.
After a simple wash, she rode her ladies' bicycle to the bread factory.
The early morning in Tokyo was a Tokyo gradually beginning to bustle. Trains continually entered and exited stations, well-dressed office workers hurriedly commuting, crows leaping among treetops. Men lay sprawled in wicker chairs reading newspapers under eaves, the figures of apron-clad housewives flickered inside, and children's loud voices sliced through the space like shards of glass.
Like visiting a zoo, Yukino Ritsuko enjoyed observing the life of the world in this way.
Stopping at a red light, she waited. In the roadside greenery, the summer cicadas were still singing fervently.
