Chapter 4: I’ve got a plan (Not a good one though)

Saturday.

Which means that this morning, I won’t run into Lift-Chan.

I sigh.

The rain continues, just as it has for nearly the entire month. A relentless drizzle that never turns into a storm, never eases into clear skies. It simply lingers, painting the world in muted grays and silvers. I don’t mind it, really.

I open the fridge to grab some milk for my coffee.

The sight inside is… depressing.

A half-cut onion sits alone on the shelf, looking as miserable as I feel. A few cans of beer roll slightly when I move the milk carton. That’s it. That’s my entire inventory.

Damn. I hadn’t even realized I was out of food. Guess I’ll have to go grocery shopping.

Since it’s still raining, I decide to take the car and do a big haul, filling my fridge in one go.

Obviously, when I take the elevator down to the parking garage, Lift-Chan isn’t there.

Obviously.

What did you expect? I scold myself. It’s Saturday.

I sigh again.

On my way back, grocery bags in hand, I step into the elevator and notice a sign posted on the wall.

"J.I. Restaurant will remain closed due to renovations."

Oh? So the restaurant on the first floor is temporarily shut down.

That place. The one I usually go to with my friends. I feel a sudden pang of curiosity. I rarely have a reason to visit the first floor anymore, not since they closed most of the shops. The only thing left up there was J.I. And now, it too has shut its doors, at least for now.

On a whim, I press the button for the first floor. Might as well check out what they’re doing to the place.

It’s been years since I last wandered this part of the mall. Normally, when I visit J.I., I enter from the street above, not through the abandoned corridors inside.

When I arrive, I’m disappointed to find that the glass windows of the restaurant have been tinted black, blocking any view of the renovations inside.

Well, that’s anticlimactic.

There’s not even a sign indicating when they’ll reopen. Just a cold, unwelcoming darkness behind the glass.

With nothing more to see, I decide to exit through the street-level doors and take the shorter route home.

But when I reach the sliding glass doors leading outside, I realize something’s wrong.

They don’t open.

A small red LED glows above them, confirming my suspicion. They’ve been locked.

Damn it. Of course.

It makes sense, if J.I. is closed, then there’s nothing left on this floor. No reason to keep the entrance open to the public.

I’m about to turn back when a thought hits me.

Lift-Chan.

She always exits through here.

She probably doesn’t know that the doors have been locked.

A sudden wave of excitement rushes through me. This is my chance. A perfect, natural excuse to talk to her. To be helpful. To show her I’m an observant, considerate person.

If I run into her on Monday, I can warn her about the door. A simple conversation starter. A perfect opportunity.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll finally ask for her name.

For the first time in my life, I find myself looking forward to Monday morning.