Fujiko was tired of the bento they sold at this station. It was what tended to happen when you've been eating the same thing for a while.
She couldn't count the time in years, days or minutes because time had no meaning here. She does know she's been here long enough to see a few trains come and go. (She vaguely remembers leaving on a couple. With her father, her comrades and her stupid, stupid brother.)
She had been fascinated at first. Fujiko had never dreamed that death looked like a shinkansen platform. Eventually, though, she got bored of it. Why a shinkansen station of all thins? And one where nothing besides the store selling bento was ever open no less!
She sighed and considered the vending machine choices in front of her. She does this everyday(?). For some reason, without her noticing someone will occasionally add seasonal selections.
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She couldn't count the time in years, days or minutes because time had no meaning here. She does know she's been here long enough to see a few trains come and go. (She vaguely remembers leaving on a couple. With her father, her comrades and her stupid, stupid brother.)
She had been fascinated at first. Fujiko had never dreamed that death looked like a shinkansen platform. Eventually, though, she got bored of it. Why a shinkansen station of all thins? And one where nothing besides the store selling bento was ever open no less!
She sighed and considered the vending machine choices in front of her. She does this everyday(?). For some reason, without her noticing someone will occasionally add seasonal selections.