• “Okay, here’s the deal. Rent, including utilities, is forty-two thousand yen a month, so we’ll split it, trash pick-up is every Wednesday, home inspection is every month on the 21st, my radio is yours to use as long as it’s not booming-loud past ten o’clock, if the red light on the cable box is on, that means it’s recording my shows, do NOT touch my yogurt, use coasters, try to keep the room neat, turn off lights when you leave a room… are you listening?”
    It was approaching ten o’clock at night. Warren was sprawled out over a sofa in the living room while Shino paced back and forth listing his rules and regulations for the house. A throw-pillow covered Warren’s face. He knew Shino was a chatterbox, but it still amazed him how long Shino could talk.
    “Warren? Are you listening?”
    Depression seemed to tucker out Warren. A part of his mind continuously thought while two other parts struggled to fall asleep and listen to Shino. Warren could never get his mind to shut off so he could relax. As a child, headaches frequented him. His growing curiosity only made it worse. Now he’s eighteen years old, a freshman at the Kosama University, a prestigious college with one of the highest rankings in the country. Curiosity morphed into near brilliance only to turn into stress. Warren finds no comfort at the school thanks to Kenji, Oshu, and his peers that hold him in high regard as a genius while they shove their homework at him; there’s no comfort at his new home either thanks to Shino and his mouth.
    “Warren?!”
    “I hear ya, man, don’t yell.”
    “All right, then,” Shino said. “There’s one more rule that you should already know, but I’ll say it anyway.”
    “Because you like to hear yourself talk?” Warren joked, pulling the pillow from his face.
    Shino mugged. “No… I feel like you might forget. So the rule is — and it’s the biggest — NO GIRLS. I know it sucks, but this is the last decent place I can afford and I can’t risk getting evicted.” Shino went and sat down on the sofa next to Warren’s. “Go see girlfriends at school, not here.”
    “Fine,” Warren sighed. “It’s not like I have any girlfriends anyway.” He threw his pillow at Shino, which he deflected back. It flew over Warren’s head past the small glass table next to the sofa he dominated. He twisted around to reach for it, but a CD case on top of the table caught his eye. Warren picked it up and examined it: a white tree bearing no leaves lay cast before a pitch-black background. Nothing else. Warren stared at it, puzzled at such a design for an album.
    “What’s this?” Warren had to ask. He sat up straight on the sofa and showed the CD to his friend. Shino stopped playing with his fingers to take a look at it.
    “Oh,” Shino spoke. “That CD’s called ‘Kuragari’. It was made by a Korean artist named Yuri. You remember when she came here to Japan a couple years back for a concert?”
    “That was her?”
    “Yeah, that was her. Anyway, my pen pal from Korea sent that to me last month. I gotta tell you… it’s not like anything she’s ever made.”
    “It sucks?”
    “No, no way. It’s new. New rock. Apparently.”
    “You know, I never could get into that ‘rock and roll’ genre.”
    “Me neither, but this album is different. It’s… real. Although she uses auto tune a lot.”
    “I’ve heard of auto tune. I wanna try it.”
    “Yeah. Give it a listen.”
    “Maybe later.” Warren placed the disc case back on the glass table.
    Shino stood up. “Alright then. I know you have a flare for music, and that album is my favorite out of my collection.” He stretched. “Well, it’s ten o-five, and I gotta get up at five. Remember to turn off everything before you fall asleep.” Shino exited through the hallway. Warren just sat there, forever thinking.
    “…A flare for music, huh?” Warren said softly as he glanced at the Korean CD. Shino was right; Warren had always loved music, and he considered it his hidden hobby and talent. He always, as he says, “listened past” the lyrics and felt the music. A song’s instruments, sound effects, key, maneuverability, and sometimes even the artist’s voice instead of his or her words intrigued him. Warren even sings incredibly well, although he has never proven or even admitted it to anyone before. Depression holds him back, or so he says.
    Warren switched off the ceiling light in the living room and used a remote to turn off Shino’s television set, leaving him in total darkness. He picked up the CD from the table and started to head to his room, but he suddenly got an urge to look out of the window, so he dragged his feet toward the window. When he bent the vinyl blinds down, he saw a full parking lot with a tall lamp post casting a light-green light over all. The night sky appeared brown, apparent from cloud cover. Rain was inevitable.
    “Rain…” Warren mumbled. “The one thing that forces me to think. I’m in for a long night.” He released the blinds and started walking toward his room, awaiting the soft pounding of rain on his window to send his mind somewhere comforting.