It's been just over an hour since I left the restaurant and I am freshly showered, dressed in comfortable yoga pants and a tank top. A hot mug of matcha tea cradled in my hands, I am huddled on the arm chair as I look out at the city lights of Tokyo, contemplating my hasty exit. Looking down at my phone, I look over the numerous messages Tristan has left me.

*Where are you?*

*Why did you leave?*

*Call me. You're worrying me.*

*What's wrong? Talk to ...