Tubby Lee sits alone in his room. He spins around in desk chair and and bemoans the upcoming wave race. He had a promising career ahead and the Tokyo Tidal Title Tourney was going to be his make or break moment. Instead he's sitting alone in his parent's house with a broken arm and trying to put off actually telling anyone he got his arm snapped, let alone by a girl just about his own age.

    His haze of self-pity is shattered by the ring of his celluar phone. He answers.
    "Hello, I am looking to speak with a Mr. Oswald "Tubby" Lee." A gravelly old voice inquires. Lee Reponds. "This is him." The man breathes in audibly from the other side.
    "My employer wishes to meet with you and discuss the setback your recent injury has presented. He believes this is the gateway to something...greater."

    Lee hesitates and weighs this in his head. On one hand he doesn't know how whoever this is knows what happened but on the other hand...

    "Name the time and place." Tubby states with a bit too much force.
    "The Chun-Lin Steakhouse. This Saturday. Eight O'Clock Sharp." The man replied immediately and hangs up.

    That Saturday was long. Lee finds himself sitting in a suit and tie on his front steps around seven. The Steakhouse is only a couple blocks from where he lives and yet, it feels miles away.
He stares at the crumbling sidewalk, finding himself trying to do everything but think about the meeting. It wasn't stress; he has met with sponsors at least a hundred times prior. This time felt different. It felt

    "I'm glad we could come to an agreement, Mr. Lee." An old man sits across from him wearing a clean pressed pitch black suit. He smiles widely and extended his hand. "Shall we shake on it?"

    Lee blinks and finds himself sitting in the Chun-Lin. He checks his watch. It's almost nine. He looks at his plate, it's half-finished. Behind the smiling old man stands two men in suits. One bulky and ugly who frowns and another thinner but just as tall who seems restless standing in one spot. The old man begins to glare angrily and retracts his hand. Lee begins to

    He blinks. He sits alone in the Steakhouse. It's dark but he can see everything from the un-finished meals to the missing doors. His plate is empty. He stands up and is immersed in a sea of misery. He collapses from the sudden shock and stares panicked at the cieling. It's normal. Everything is in it's place except the doors. He fears standing again so he crawls towards the exit. When he crawls he can hear the cracking of shells and then the yelling starts. He feels admonished and chastised in the silence and he becomes heavier in his crawl. He doesn't feel strong enough to move and lays on the floor. It's a red carpet with a dark yellow and green diagonal pattern. It repeats as far as one can see. Following the pattern with one's eyes it reaches the opposing wall. Through the towering legs and hanging cloth the walls look distant. They look miles away. The doors have left. The tables cleaned and emptied. The lights torn out and the wallpaper scratched off. Left alone  in an abandoned business. Time flies.