Prophecy #1: Concerning Sawada Tsuniyoshi and Sasagawa Kyoko
Flour, sugar, eggs, baking powder–he fumbled with the groceries, hoping she wouldn't recognize him.
Something was shaking. An Earthquake? No, a rumbling, ominous echo. Because here he was, scanning his heartbreak's groceries with his thin, sallow arms, carefully averting his eyes, while she flipped through a collection of coupons.
"Oh, please be careful with the eggs, sir."
He was twenty-five years old. Was he still an egg? Yes, he was. He was an egg that never hatched. Laid and forgotten. He smelled bad.
She handed him a coupon for the oysters, a golden ring obvious on her slender, moisturized hands.
"I don't mean to be rude, but I'm in a bit of a rush."
The oysters steamed deliciously on the coupon's picture. However, the salty, raw, barnacled shells, dripping in their mesh-net bag, looked inedible.
He punched their code into the check-out computer-69196. He wondered if any were hiding a pearl.
That was too rare.