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A Tokyo Girl

She’s a Tokyo girl, no longer a virgin, divorced once, now in her mid-thirties, still a girl. She’s got 3 pairs of eyeglasses, each as thick as the others, but different in colour, say, red, blue and white. She works downtown Tokyo, 5 days a week, commutes an hour one way. She wears white in the Tokyo tube for obscurity. She thinks herself beautiful but doesn’t care very much for attention and wears white glasses. Off the tube and out onto the Tokyo street she walks to work. She walks off the main street into an alley and stops one minute to work to change her glasses to red for attention as no one’s around. One minute walk and into the building she goes and changes the glasses to blue to prepare for the day. She looks blue and sighs blue and works blue all day long till evening. She’s sure of her boss being so keen on her as to be horny so she keeps herself on guard all day breathing blue. She dabbles in French assuming the tongue to have magical power and whispers in French, “Je suis une belle femme.” fully aware of him being within earshot. And out she cries as he appears from around the cubicle, “Oh, my, I didn’t know you were there!” The boss looks dubious, unable to comprehend what she means. She lives in a world of her own creation so she thinks what she thinks is what others think and takes for granted the dubiousness on his face as a telltale sign of libido. He is ready to assault me. “I must flee.” Flurried she mumbles again into her blouse, unbuttoned down barely enough to show her shallow cleavage. He calls to her asking what she meant by “J’sus what?” which she takes as an overture for mating consent and up she stands on her feet. You know I’m so beautiful you can’t forgo having me! Again she cries but only inwardly. She rushes out the door into the toilet and locks herself up ready to scream but passes out instead trapped inside. When she comes around, she hears a man whisper “Are you okay?” which she construes “Are you ready to make love?” and closes her mouth tight but cannot keep her legs closed as they open as if in some reflex responses. “Oh, my,” she comes to herself and looks around to see if no one was around to witness her seeing herself. Trapped, she’s vaguely aware of her being and tries hard to escape. “Je suis belle.” She cries out the key words. Overtaken by exhaustion, however, she realizes the magic doesn’t work and disappointed she now applies herself to work. It’s getting on for 4 o’clock. The office is to close at 5. One hour left to live the life of a woman a girl woman has to live. She works. Still a girl in Tokyo she keeps on working.