TCP 18 - Akihabara

The light, an ominous blue-green bearing a single white silhouette in its foreground, begins to flash between bursts of lightness and darkness, the eye filling in the interim with elegant trails of fading green. Cautious of the encompassing sea of automobiles, growling with impatience, she begins to run. The lights of each car she passes before produce rays of a somehow synthetic gold, sparkling with a filter of fluttering rain, which shine brilliantly upon her bare legs. Just before reaching the side of her desire, the dictating illumination above jolts to a vivid red. Her perfectly straight blonde hair and generously revealing clothing make her appear somehow lost, out of context in the surrounding flash flood of salarymen. Umrellaless, her high-heeled footsteps ease into a slower pace yet none the less bumping into perhaps every obstacle in her path, as her wallet, procured from a miniature Dior-esque handbag and held directly affront her perhaps rapturous eyes, serves as a shield, protecting her makeup from the now trickling rain.