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Worlds Apart

A small street in Kyoto It was raining. Her zori clip-clapped on this stone street and splattered some rainwater slightly. She looked up and saw some green mist was hanging over the distant mountain top. Everywhere was dyed green in this rainy season; even the wood handle of her oil paper umbrella had built a trace of green moss. She sighed faintly. As a geisha, she had to attend all of the parties that her clients had booked, even in such annoying weather—She couldn’t disappoint them. She withdrew the floral tail of her checkered kimono and tightened her little parcel in another hand. They were things she might need for this evening’s party—A folded paper fan, a few silk handkerchiefs, a bottle of perfume, a small  mahogany comb, and a lipstick. When she thought of the perfume, a gentleman’s face appeared in her memory. It was last year—She met him at the door of a cinema. That day the weather was similar to today’s. She had forgotten to take her umbrella, so he offered to walk her ho

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