Osaka

Short short.

 Kyoto

 

     In Japan, instead of ordering the food off the menu, you point to what you want from a display case.  You probably don't do this if you're Japanese, but being American and having no desire what so ever to learn the language, you point.  The food looks better in the plastic style under glass than it does when they set it in front of you.  Mark and I had gotten most of our food this way, pointing at plates of Tempura cooked food that ended up being octopus when we thought it was shrimp.  We went through four Japanese cities this way, before taking the final train ride to Osaka.

    We spent most of the day lost in a subway station.  Mark made me cry twice, yelling something about my lack of directional sense.   The worst part about being lost in Japan is knowing that even if they speak English, they don't want to speak it to an American.  Not because they hate Americans (which they very well may), but because they don't want to offend us by butchering our language.  I would have taken a little butchering.

     Just as we were about to board the train to Osaka we heard on the news (or rather, read on the subtitles on the news) that there had been a train crash.  The crash caused our train to be cancelled.  Mark yelled at me some more and I cried again, and we resigned to work out the problem over dinner.  On the way to find a restaurant we asked everyone if there was another way to Osaka, but of course none could speak English or simply declined to. 

   An hour later we found a beacon of hope and light in the form of a neon sign.  We had found a fifties diner, not only that but an American chain restaurant.  Oh, it was bliss. It was finally a chance to eat what we wanted without pointing to plastic food.  It was the first time I had seen Mark smile in days. The man behind the counter was definitely not Japanese, a fact which soothed our broken souls further.  However, his thick Australian accent still caught us off guard.  He took our order for two cheeseburgers with fries and shakes, one chocolate, one strawberry, and explained that the best thing to do was to find lodging for the night and leave first thing in the morning.  

    But by morning my eyes were red and puffy, and all my tissues gone, and Mark had bought us both tickets home, so I never saw Osaka.

Reviews

[.]

I liked this story. Flash fiction is something that I'm not particularly good at, so I understand how hard it can be. I think that this story has all the parts to be a good piece. The only thing that I could suggest is to make the plot revolve more around the tension of the story. That's what I've noticed short works to get their energy from. You have good tension in your story, but it doesn't feel like it really effects what is going on. Something else that effects the tension and it's impact to a reader is that we are given no clue as to why the two characters are always arguing. We understand they are lost in a foreign country and that is naturally stressful, but I don't feel that it fully justifies the kind of response that Mark has. I think if you are able to develop a little more of the tension itself, and then allow the plot and actions to form around that tension, then this story have some great impact. You start out with this great image of a display case and an inability at communication that clearly transfers over to the characters. I just feel that as the plot progresses, we lose sight of that image and theme. A good write and fun to read.