The Graveyard Apartment Read Free

soon.
    But still, at their current rental—a dilapidated, sun-deprived apartment where even in the midsummer heat, the laundry Misao hung on the north-facing balcony took forever to dry—they were essentially pouring money down the drain every month. Fortunately, they had managed to hang on to some of their savings, and Misao got the feeling that if they were going to use that money for a down payment on a suitable apartment, it was probably now or never.
    As Teppei pointed out at every opportunity, you could look all over Tokyo and not find a single comparable unit at this price: only thirty-five million yen for a great deal of space. When you factored in the convenience for commuting, shopping, schools, and so on, it wouldn’t be unusual to pay sixty million yen or, more likely, seventy million yen for an apartment of similar size, or smaller. So on the one hand there was the disadvantage of having to look out at a graveyard and a crematorium smokestack, while on the other hand you were getting a very attractive living space for something close to half price. I need to look on the bright side here, Misao thought. I mean, if you need to live within commuting distance of central Tokyo, finding an affordable, family-size home that offers perfection inside and out is the proverbial impossible dream, with no chance of ever coming true. This apartment is gorgeous inside, at least, and (if you don’t think too much about the view) the location really couldn’t be more convenient.
    As for resale, Misao knew the unconventional setting might make it more difficult to find a buyer, but she couldn’t imagine that they would want to move out and find another place until sometime in the extremely distant future, and there was no point in thinking that far ahead. She had every expectation that the three of them (four, with Cookie) would enjoy living at the Central Plaza Mansion so much that they wouldn’t need to think about selling for many years to come. The dank little rental apartment where they had been living until yesterday was tainted by some exceptionally unpleasant memories, and it was a wonderfully liberating feeling to be making a new beginning here.
    â€œMama?” Tamao said quizzically, poking her head through the kitchen door. Misao had been absently spreading a piece of toast with butter, and she jolted back to reality with such a start that she dropped the pat on the floor.
    â€œI can make Cookie’s breakfast,” Tamao announced.
    â€œReally? You’re sure?”
    â€œYep! I’m sure!”
    â€œWell, that would be a big help. You don’t need to add any water, though.”
    The moment Tamao took the box of dog food out of the cupboard and rattled it, Cookie came galloping up with her tail wagging at maximum velocity. She wasn’t a purebred dog by any means, but her round black eyes and tawny coat were a clear legacy of the Shiba Inu branch of her family tree.
    Oh, that’s right, Misao thought, staying positive. This area is an ideal place to walk a dog, too . And even if Cookie barks a bit from time to time, we won’t need to worry because there’s nobody living next door.
    They had bought unit 801; the other apartment on the eighth floor, 802, was still empty. Of course, there was a good chance that someone would move in eventually, but as long as their future neighbor wasn’t a curmudgeon with an extreme dislike of dogs, it should still be all right, assuming Cookie didn’t suddenly start howling loudly at all hours.
    The big front window stood open, and the breeze wafting into the apartment caused the newly purchased white lace curtains to undulate softly. The air smelled like springtime. Although it was only nine a.m., the warm rays of the morning sun had already flooded the entire left side of the living room with light.
    â€œAfter we finish breakfast, we’ll have a funeral for Pyoko,” Misao told Tamao. “Then you can tidy