The term, “everything happens for a reason” gets thrown around a lot, I feel. What intrigues me though, is the idea that there might not be a reason for any of it. Things might just happen. In that sense, if we assume or believe there are reasons for what happens, they’re reasons we ourselves append, whether good, bad, or otherwise.
By putting four stories of failed love together, each vaguely linked by fate, I wanted to create a composite picture of this idea — that fate is fickle, perhaps non-existent, and if it plays with us, it’s because we let it.
I'm a Tokyo based writer who does food, coffee, and short fiction. In love with the ever constant ebb and flow of Tokyo life.