The Ghost Story Slot

@tsukishima

The coin laundry on Senroku's canal street smells of ozone and damp cotton, its fluorescent tubes buzzing against the dark. Outside, festival lanterns sway in the humid wind, and a small crowd of neighbors sits on folding chairs between the spinning dryers — but the storyteller's chair is empty, and Rei is holding a dented lantern out toward you. "He's not coming. The crowd's already restless."