Confusion and the Decision to Clean Up
I sat down on the cold floor, letting the confusion and uncertainty engulf my mind. A pungent stench pierced my nose, making me nauseous every time I tried to inhale. This room was too dirty, too disgusting, and simply not a place worth living in.
My head was still throbbing, the pain seemed to remind me of the knot of rope around my neck that left a faint red mark. I couldn't understand why I was here, or how this all happened.
"Maybe I'm dreaming..." I muttered to myself, though I knew this was impossible. Everything feels too real.
I looked around the room again. Trash was scattered everywhere-empty beer bottles, stale food wrappers, and something in the corner of the room that was already swarming with flies. Thick dust coated every surface.
I tried to stand up, my knees still shaking, but I forced myself upright. If I had to be here, at least I couldn't let this place stay like this.
"I can't stay in this place if it's like this," I said loudly, trying to motivate myself.
I rolled up my sleeves and started picking up the most visible trash. I picked up the sticky food wrappers on the floor and dropped them into a large plastic bag I found by the door. Every time I picked something up, the smell got worse.
As I picked up a moldy beer bottle, a swarm of flies flew out from underneath it. I backed away while covering my mouth.
"OH MY GOD!" I exclaimed, almost losing my balance.
Disgust ran through my body, but I pushed on. I collected the big trash first, trying to make this room a little more decent. My hands shivered every time I touched something sticky or emitting a foul odor.
In the corner of the room, I found something that looked like stale food that had rotted completely, with maggots moving around on it. I covered my mouth and nose with my hands, trying to hold back the nausea.
"How can this person live in a place like this?" I muttered, glancing at my own body. I knew this body belonged to Shinichiro, the man who was supposed to be here. But I don't know how he could survive in these conditions.
I dragged the large garbage bag to the door, then swept my gaze across the room that was still in disarray. There's still a lot to do, but at least I've started.
As I returned to the center of the room, something caught my eye-a small table in the corner, with something lying on it, covered in dust. I walked over to it, slowly, and realized it was a photograph lying face down.
Finding Mysterious Photos
I approached the small table slowly, my steps hesitant. Amidst the thick dust, a photograph lay face down on it. I ran my hand across the surface of the table, leaving a clean trail between the layers of dust that was almost like a layer of rust.
My hands trembled as I turned the photo over.
The face of a young woman greeted me. Long black hair, a gentle smile, and eyes that seemed full of life. She looked almost as old as me-or rather, as old as this body. I stared at the photo more closely, trying to find clues.
In the bottom corner of the frame, there was a small handwritten note: "Akiko Nakamura."
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my wild thoughts. "Akiko... who is she?" I muttered under my breath.
I looked at the photo again. This woman... there was something in her smile that felt familiar, even though I was sure I had never met her before. Was she related to Shinichiro, this body?
I felt my own cheeks, trying to connect my current face with the woman in the photo. Nothing felt right. No memories surfaced. Only confusion.
"What are you hiding, Shinichiro?" I asked, even though I knew there would be no answer.
I put the photo back in its place, brushed the dust off the frame, and stared at it for a while before turning around. I still had a lot to clean up, and I didn't have time to dwell on things I didn't understand.
I picked up the full trash bag again and started collecting more trash from the corners of the room. The flies were still flying around, irritating me even more. The flying dust got into my nose, forcing me to hold my breath every time I moved.
As I opened the drawer of the small table near the bed, my eyes caught another object-an old cell phone with a dead battery. The screen was cracked in places, but it still seemed to be working.
I picked it up, looking at it for a while before finding the charging cable lying on the floor. I plugged the phone into the outlet, hoping it would still be alive.
"What am I going to find here?" I muttered, staring at the still-dark screen.
I left the phone on the table to charge and returned to my work. The big garbage is almost done, but I know this job is far from over.
A few hours later, the room started to look cleaner. The trash that had accumulated in the corners of the room had been put into large bags. I dragged the bags outside the apartment, toward the dumping ground behind the building.
As I walked out, fresh air greeted me, although there was still a faint scent of the trash I'd brought in. But the air felt different, like something was holding me back from breathing freely.
I began to notice the stares of the people around me. Some people stopped talking, just staring at me with strange expressions-a mixture of disgust and fear.
I tried to ignore them, looked down, and kept walking. But their mutterings started to become audible.
"There he is..."
"Look, he's out again."
"Why is someone like that still here?"
I felt my goosebumps bristle. What did they mean? I tried to hold my breath, pulling the garbage bags to the dump faster.
But the words grew sharper.
"He's... harassment, huh?"
My steps stopped. I turned my head, trying to figure out who was speaking, but they all looked away as if I wasn't there.
"He should be in jail," another voice rang out, quieter this time, but enough to make me shiver.
I swallowed hard. What exactly were they talking about? What did they mean by harassment?
Then, a louder voice, from a man near the corner of the building, pierced my ears:
"Abusers shouldn't live freely like that."
I stood transfixed, the trash bag I was holding falling to the ground. The words kept echoing in my head.
"What exactly has this man done... the man whose body I now wear?"