Akiko closed the door of the storage room, making sure that it was locked. She hoped that three weeks would be long enough to find somewhere permanent to live; she didn’t want to pay for it for any longer than was absolutely necessary. Hefting the bag containing the items she’d decided she needed, she looked at her watch. Already after eleven. She walked to the entrance and looked out at the continuing rain, wondering where she was going to sleep.

The glow of neon over near the expressway caught her attention, and offered a solution. There was a cluster of love hotels near the interchange, and no doubt at least one would have vacancies. Pushing open the door, she stepped out into the cold rain of the night.

She didn’t like the look of the first hotel she came to, but the second looked rather less seedy, and had vacancies, so she booked herself in. The room booking machine gave her options for three hours or overnight, and she booked overnight, for 7,000 yen, collecting the card key from the slot at the bottom. As it fell, she heard noises behind her, and hurried through the curtains into the elevator lobby before anyone could see that she was there alone.

The room was much as she expected, with a large bed, large bath, small karaoke machine, and bowl full of condoms. She’d visited love hotels a few times with her boyfriends, and this one was fairly standard. It was somewhere to sleep, at any rate.

She pulled off her shoes, and then took off the raincoat Shiraishi had lent her and hung it behind the door. Stepping up into the room proper, she opened her case, determined to finally change out of her work clothes.

After changing, she looked at the uniform lying on the bed, and wondered what to do about it. Strictly speaking, she should return it to the company, but she couldn’t face the thought of going back.

And at that moment the reality of her situation hit her again, and she sank down on to the bed, fighting a losing battle with tears. What on earth was she going to do? She couldn’t live in a love hotel for ever. Not alone.

She pulled her cell phone out of her bag, grateful that it had survived being left on the landing, and dialled Naoyuki. She listened as his phone rang, until it turned over to the answering service. Hanging up, she dialled again. And again. And again. And again.

She thought about leaving a message, but she could think of nothing to say. She tried anyway, and left a largely silent message, during which she managed to say his name once.

Dropping the phone onto the bed, she started crying again. Naoyuki wouldn’t call back this time, she was sure of it. No job, no home, no boyfriend, 26 years old. What kind of a failure was she?

She picked the phone up to call Naoyuki again, sobbing as the ringing tone sounded in her ears, redialling every time the answering service came on, hanging up and redialling, redialling.