Illustration by Max Currie
“You won’t need money where you’re going,” Renzo said.
“Sounds like rehab,” Kent said, concerned it might be true. “Come on, you know I’m good for it. Before they kick me out of the Capsule Inn.”
“Let them.” Renzo pulled Kent close. “You’re leaving that salaryman shithole anyway.” He waved Harumi over for a top up on their whiskeys, though Kent never got the nuts he hoped for.
“Because I am not doing another stint in—”
“You’re going to like this.”
A place where Kent would no longer have to climb down a short ladder to take a piss in a public bathroom at three a.m. Where he wouldn’t wake up to the sound of salarymen hustling in the hallway each morning. Where he’d no longer knock his head on the ceiling when he forgot, which was daily, that he lived in a one-by-one-by-two-meter pod.
christopher bundy 