This is a story that has nothing to do with this plot.

I lived in an apartment by the river when I was in elementary school. I still remember how, on summer nights, groups of motorcycles would roar past just outside the glass doors, and the voices of people setting off fireworks on the riverbank were so lively. Anyway, there were many buildings lined up there. Not perfectly flush, but arranged chaotically like an old person's gapped teeth, with buildings of different widths and heights. Since it was a shortcut to school back then, I often walked through a narrow gap between a multi-tenant building and the apartment wall. It was much faster than going all the way around the buildings. But even when I invited a friend who lived in the same apartment, he would never go through there.

"That place... it's not good,"

he would say. After hearing those words, I happened to peek into the gap, and it was strangely clean. There was no trash or fallen leaves that usually blow into such spots in the middle of the city. Not even a single cigarette butt, and as far as I can remember, I never saw a dog or a cat passing through that gap. Feeling just a little bit strange about it, I continued to use that shortcut.

Then, one day. A sweltering summer afternoon. I had pool practice at school that day, and with my stamp card in hand and a plastic bag slung over my shoulder, I squeezed my body into that gap. I went in as usual for a while, but then I got stuck. I don't know if I'd gained weight over the summer break, or if it was the bag or my posture, but about halfway through, I couldn't move forward or backward. After staying in that state for several minutes, I was practically frantic. The cinder block wall and the building wall of the path I was so used to... the concrete warmed by the summer heat felt like it was clinging to me viscously. Even though it was an alley without a single piece of trash, it smelled strangely fishy. It was just... I moved my body desperately, scraping against everything with a gritty sound.

Scritch. Scritch. Shove.

It clings. It scratches. I was pulled and pinched all over.

After doing that for many minutes, when I finally broke through to the other side of the gap, I was aghast at my appearance. My white shirt was stained black with grime from the walls, but somehow, those stains looked like the shapes of many hands.

I think that gap is still there today.