Tokyo. A bustling place of small markets and vendors happily opened their doors along with begging hands for the crowd’s hard earnings. The afternoon gave a vibe of festive glee and warm tendencies. Burning coals, fish and vegetables fill the air as the sounds of a distant sanshin strings being plucked. Its sounds sent rhythmic peace among the people, compelling the children to dance, play and smile.

Though, one figure wasn’t beaming like the rest nor were they ecstatic to see everyone else so cheerful. Hauling her wagasa (traditional Japanese umbrella), the slouching figure was on the move. Everything else appeared colorful except this woman. Even in her very vivid, summer kimono it wasn’t difficult to see this cloud of gloom that hung around her.

With a peach colored hand, the lady pushed against the door of a small Tea House. Once inside she closed her umbrella and set it aside. Dark hair fell and dangled as the woman sat down on her knees at one of the tables and remained immobile until a waitress greeted her.