Have you ever questioned a decision in life? Considered what could possibly have happened if you approached a situation differently or thought a different opinion at a certain time? Don't get me wrong, I love America. The food is great; the designers here are so unique and the women…They truly are amazing and very easily tempted. Just a few sweets words in English or Japanese and they are submissive to my every whim. But…something is deficient in this bizarre world.

Possibly the reason for this feeling is because I haven't had any good sex in about a month…or maybe it is my presumptuous attitude. It hasn't cursed me yet, why would it start now?

Maybe it's actually karma…I never believed in it, just some annoying reason to blame your own misfortune on.

Before I knew it, my outlandish thoughts were being corrupted by a roaring car horn behind me; I guess my distracting thoughts kidnapped me from reality. I am uncertain about how long I was really at that glaring red light but I finally took off, my convertible blowing my obscure thoughts into the wind along with other thoughts of hopelessness and optimism by other humans.

I watched as the sun dipped into the horizon and more cars leaked onto the streets from all directions, a sure sign that the night was beginning to commence. The air cooled and a shiver snaked up my long spine, wonder what it would feel like to go streaking?

My condo was empty as expected, the hose keeper had come and gone and the evidence sat right on the kitchen table. An American dish I believe is called meatloaf, cabbage and to top it off, my new favorite dessert, red velvet cake. The house smelled of fresh pine sol, and the mail was sitting on my leather sofa I brought from Japan. The normal, bills, more modeling offers, designer offers, but something felt different…Once I leafed through the mail hungrily I found what I craved to see.

A Vibe magazine, but a Japanese version. The women adoring the covering wore a brilliant ensemble. I could have nitpicked at the entire cover for hours about how to position the model better to flaunt the design but my breath was whisked away by the raven haired, long legged maiden.

"Yukari." I said it slow, savoring every letter.

At her name, at that insipid two syllable name, my heart did a double thud, my stomach knotted. Even though we were millions of miles away, those eyes still intrigued me, seducing me emotionally. "She looks nice." I carry the magazine into my kitchen, setting it down carefully on the mountain of other faultless Vibe magazines. Amazing how I haven't damaged a single cover. Hastily I grab a beer from the refrigerator, pass the answering machine and hit the red button indicating that I have new voicemails, and head to the sofa, kicking my shoes off and my feet up.

Yukari is still in my mind when I terminate my beer and the moon has come out of hiding, blessing the world with its beauty. My cell phone rings and I sluggishly answer, feeling a bit uneasy, my words slurring a bit. "Hello." I say unenthusiastically.

"Good evening Mr. Koizumi. My sincerest apologies for calling so unexpectedly but my name is Tamiki Souh and I called on the regarding the Vibe magazine. Would you be interested in designing an ensemble for the Vibe 2009 spring edition? And possibly modeling a few other creations? I assure you the pay-''

"No thank you." I cut him off abruptly. "I don't design anything of that nature anymore." My words are echoing in my ears and I can hear them dripping with irritation.

"We would fly you out to Japan for free Mr. Koizumi. We would consider it an honor-''

The way he emphasized the 'we' made me ponder the offer for a second before I had a sort of epiphany. Yukari worked for Vibe, we, meaning I would be granted another opportunity to work with Yukari once again? Be engulfed in the ambrosial scent of her hair, witness her embarrassed face, annoy her to wits ends? But would she want to see me? Has she missed me at all? Have I crossed her mind? I was never one for rejection, so I was apprehensive at first to agreeing but I find the words escaping my mouth before I get the chance to reject.

"I'll do it. When do I leave?" My own enthusiasm astonished me.

"Great!" his enthusiasm almost trumped mine. "Your ticket will be waiting next Monday for you at Gate C. Thank you so much for accepting." With the conversation ending, something warmed inside of my heart, a extinguished emotion every since I arrived in Japan.

First I stood there, in a sense of denial. I had just agreed to go to Japan, not only design a spring collection for Vibe, but have Yukari modeling my clothes. Am I that arrogant that a great opportunity presents its self and all I can think about is a girl?

I groan, letting my head fall between in hands, regretting the words and the enthusiasm that I couldn't refute flowing through my veins, cursing my heart for listening to what I truly wanted. Why couldn't my heart accompany my brain in denial? It's always possibly that I could arrive and avoid her, getting her measurements from one of the designers. Yeah, sounds like a plan to me.

"I need a beer."


Next week was a week of pure torture and anxiety. The thought calling Mr. Souh back and canceling my ticket crossed my mind almost a dozen times a day. I misplaced three sketches, stabbed my precious index finger with a needle four times, all because I was stressed about this trip.

And I was even losing my mentality…here I was blaming other insignificant issues for my own mistakes.

I had teen beers that week.

The annoying roar of the airport rang in my delicate ears, provoking the animosity of my hangover. Last night I drank nearly two bottles of Jack Daniels on the rocks in a feeble attempt to calm my nerves. "Hello." The women on the other side of the ticket booth said with pink cheeks.

"Hello." I can hear my words slur. "A ticket was left for George Koizumi."

"That's where I know you from! I love your clothes!" The girl praised, being just a little too loquacious for me at the moment. The girl hanged me the ticket, allowing our fingers to brush against each others for a brief moment.

Everything else seemed obscured by a massive headache , someone checked my luggage, scanned my body and told me to have a good day with blushing cheeks.

My insides were corrupted, not only with the remains of alcohol, but also contaminated with doubt. Within hours I would be in Japan, a place filled with beautiful and hideous memories. Anxiety deflowered any chance I had at sanity. When I finally felt myself beginning to slip away, Yukari's smile came to mind. "I wonder if her smile is still that bright."


I never noticed the nostalgia that was building inside of me until I stepped out of the airport. The smell, roads, everything seemed to stand still when I left. I laughed, "Man I'm really arrogant." It didn't take me long to notice the breath taking women holding up a sign with my last name on it standing in front of a black American Mercedes.

"Hello." Freshly glossed lips spoke. Everyone around us looked, either at her cleavage or at my American style of clothing. I guess I forget it was winter because most of the people were wearing coats and scarf's and here I am standing in a long tight sleeve shirt that closely hugs my defined abs and tan shorts.

"Good afternoon gorgeous." A sort of bell boy brings me my two duffel bags. "Thank you."

The girl fluffed her unnatural red black hair. "I was warned that you were a charmer." She commented, licking those lush lips before she turned around and opened the door, bending over briefly. Unintentional or not, I spotted her sexy boy shorts before she got in, a pleased countenance appearing on my face.

It's good to be home.