08:15 am Sunny Day Mall

08:15 am Sunny Day Mall

Rear Entrance

Brandon Smith shuffled through the sliding doors of Sunny Day Mall, the bustle of early birds and delivery trucks doing little to brighten the cloud of contemplation hanging over him. Coming in to work on a Saturday wasn’t great but with two months to go until the great employee re-transfer from Japan, weekend work had become more common. At least Wet “N” Antics paid good overtime which was a rare bonus these days.

The grand atrium of the Mall swept upward, its vaulted glass ceiling capturing the morning light and scattering it like confetti over kiosks adorned with the latest consumer temptations. Piped-in pop melodies curtsied to the harmonious splashes of the central fountain, while the aroma of freshly-baked pastries from the food court gently battled the sterile scent of industrial-strength cleaner.

His heavy footsteps carried him past storefronts just waking from their slumber, their shuttered faces temporary masks to the commercial delight they would soon unveil. The mall was a microcosm of retail across the country, lined with everything from high-end boutiques to bargain bins—all under watchful eyes that missed little.

One such sentinel was Chad, a towering figure with muscles that seemed to have their own gravitational pull, clothed in the dark uniform of mall security, a beacon of authority amid the growing crowd.

"Morning, Chad," Brandon muttered, managing a polite nod. Chad grunted a curt greeting, a rare smile flickering across his stern visage, acknowledging their cordial acquaintance.

Before Brandon could continue his trek to the sanctuary of the office, a mysterious figure leaning at the wall near the Rear Entrance thrust a sleek, plastic card into Brandon's hand. Brandon barely registered that the guy had called it a ‘Pass’ of some kind. Promotion or not, Brandon pocketed the enigma for later pondering.

His mind was elsewhere. Looped in the finality of two months—two short months to win Aina's heart.

Brandon plodded along the fine line between mediocre and just-good-enough. This 25-year-old, with his run-of-the-mill demeanour and very average physique. As a sales rep of just over two years’ experience at Wet “N” Antics he had become a fixture in the office. His life unfolded in a comfortable, if somewhat monotonous rhythm; He lived at home with his parents and two sisters, well insulated from the ventures of independence.

Brandon's heart, however, was anything but average. It beat to an all-consuming rhythm set by the lovely brown-haired girl Aina Washio. Aina, with her quick wit and quicker smile, and a cute face that was somehow mature for her years. The 24-year-old Asian woman navigated the maze of American sales with an ease that belied her newcomer status. Brandon loved to fantasise about her hair, done up messily and he often day-dreamed about her perky breasts that were evident in the summer when she wore her tight tee-shirts and her nice, peachy bum that was gorgeous to observe when she wore leggings before she went for a lunchtime jog.

Their friendship had quickly blossomed in the in-between moments—shared coffees, commiserating over targets missed, and the exchange of cultural curiosities and a bizarre shared love of Nicholas Cage movies. In the first two months Brandon had mistaken this camaraderie for the prelude to something more. He had asked her out and was gently but firmly declined. Aina was just looking for a friend.

Brandon watched as Aina's romantic endeavours in the US unfurled—a lengthy relationship here, a light-hearted fling there—each one a silent ache in his secret vigil. When her most recent romance fizzled out a few months ago, Brandon, had given asking her out a second shot only to be met with familiar rejection. Although this time Aina had been somewhat perturbed that her work friend had made things awkward again. She had a chat with him over a coffee and obtained a profession of contentment from him to remain ‘just friends.

For the next few months though Brandon cloaked his lovesickness in a shroud of jovial day-to-days. But whispers of a grand gesture began to dance at the edge of his resolve. In his mind, the right act, the perfect proclamation, could unravel the 'no' that stood like a steadfast dam against his desires. This morning though it seemed especially hopeless. What on earth could he do to win over Aina?

Wet “N” Antics had a customer facing retail unit Sunny Day. But their corporate offices sat on the sixth floor in the rented office space that customers rarely bothered to go up to. Turning a corner Brandon reached a discreet set of glass doors marked with the playful Wet "N" Antics insignia that would take him up to the offices. The elevator was just arriving up from the underground carpark level.

Stepping onto the elevator, he greeted his two company colleagues already in the lift. The tall and frankly intimidatingly beautiful Asuka Ishikawa. Today's choice of attire for the lovely creature was a stylish blend of professionalism and sex. A tight suit jacket and white shirt with a scandalously short skirt and high heels. Asuke got away with clothing other female employees didn’t by dint of her role as the company’s Principal Brand Advocate. A glorified name for a model permanently employed by the company.

In contrast to the stunning Asian woman was Kyle Thompson. The Digital Tech-Support guru was wedged in beside them, filling the elevator space with his ample frame and the smell of some godawful energy drink.

Asuka offered Brandon a warm, sympathetic smile, and greeting. Although she had learnt to be wary of being too friendly with guys and not give the wrong impression, she knew Brandon was harmless. Meanwhile Kyle has his face in his phone was buried in a digital world accessible only through his thick-framed glasses.

Presently the elevator arrived on the 6th Floor and Wet “N” Antics offices. The doors slid open to reveal a vista of Wet "N" Antics' peculiar genius—a workplace where inflatable palm trees neighboured filing cabinets. The offices were a stark contrast to the floors below—part funhouse, part workspace—a place where bright colour splashes on the walls vied for attention with modern, ergonomic workstations. Yet as Brandon stepped out, the whimsy of Wet "N" Antics did little to buoy his spirits.

The open-plan office of Wet "N" Antics was already humming with the sounds of office work. Brandon knew from experience that the Japanese woman would be in about 08:00 most days and often not leave until 18:30 at the earliest. Even though it was a Saturday it looked like it was a full house. A few dozen men and women were in the main plan office. And no doubt plenty more were working in HR, Legal and other ancillary departments. Floor-to-ceiling windows bordered one side, granting a panoramic view of the mall's internal skyline. The three arriving colleagues separated, going to their respective desks.

Asuka shapely rear deposited itself demurely on a seat at the far side of the open plan space.

Meanwhile the obese Kyle lumbered his way to the digital tech support pen, a crowded collection of desks that seated the six digital tech support specialists. There he got on with his favourite activity of trying to impress the three female Japanese techies with his blunt opinions about the differences between he States and Japan. Kyle was especially focused on the blue and pink haired 19-year-old Haruka. The fun loving teenage digital support intern had been assigned to the States only five months ago. She had laughed at a joke Kyle had made that referenced Cowboy Bebop so he was pretty sure he had a shot with her.

Brandon ambled through the office, greeting coworkers with half-hearted waves before finally arriving at his desk, nestled in a corner that buzzed with the vigour of the sales team. A cheerful cacophony of keyboard clicks, phone conversations, and intermittent laughter underscored the creative heartbeat of the company. Taking a seat, Brandon noticed Aina already settled in her spot beside him, her screen awash with foreign kanji characters.

"Hi," Aina greeted without tearing her gaze from the screen, the corners of her mouth etching a polite smile.

"Morning, Aina," murmured Brandon, trying to inject some cheer into his voice.

Casually glancing at her monitor, he saw the layout of a tiny yet stylish Tokyo apartment fill her screen. The rooms were compact but filled with light, the minimalist design a refreshing contrast to the vibrant clutter of their office. Aina's cursor hovered over vibrant snapshots of city life. Obviously, she was researching her future, scouting for the perfect place to land once back on Japanese soil—just eight weeks not now. It all seemed so conclusive, a door inching shut with every click of her mouse. Brandon fought the urge to voice his plea, to articulate once more the affection that had coloured his world since her arrival.

Instead, he settled into the rhythm of his own duties, the familiar swirl of Wet "N" Antics enveloping him.