A Skateboard and the Dead Fountain at Kurenai Plaza

The wheels are louder than anything the building has heard since March. Misaki Oyama pushes off at 7:02 a.m. from the dry fountain, across tiles the colour of weak tea, past the shutter of what was a shoe repair stall.

Kurenai Plaza shut after 41 years. The floor is still polished, because someone still pays for it. Upstairs there was a goldfish stall, a photo booth, and a bakery that sold curry bread at 3 p.m. in warm paper bags.

The guard by the east door holds a can of coffee and does not move. Oyama rolls one slow lap of the atrium. The board clicks over every tile joint, like a clock someone forgot to stop.