“Go away, Misaki. I’m conducting critical research.”
(voiced with a fragile, deliberate slowness, each word a small, brave step). She’s standing there in her hoodie, clutching a paper bag. Welcome to the N.H.K. -Dub-
“Satō-kun. Your apartment smells like a funeral for a hamster.” “Go away, Misaki
A terrible, low-budget explosion. Static. Then, silence. each word a small
She holds up a piece of paper. The word is typed in bold, Comic Sans font. It looks like a ransom note designed by a child.
Satō stares at her. In the bad TV light, she looks like a ghost. Or an angel. He can’t tell the difference anymore.