The game center was a place of wonders. It was full of hundreds of crane games, each one flashing colored lights and blasting tinny music, tempting brave users to test their skill and win the prizes kept trapped inside their glass cages.
Keiko passed the center every day on her way home from school and could never resist going inside. There was one machine in particular that she was always drawn to, tucked away in the farthest corner. It contained a Doragon plushy, a character from one of the most popular TV shows in Japan. The sign on the machine flashed “Doragon” in red, white, and pink. Keiko watched day after day as other people tried their luck, taking note of their mistakes and planning her own tactics. When no one was playing, Keiko pressed her hands against the machine and leaned forward until her breath steamed up the glass.
“One day,” she whispered to Doragon. “One day.”
She had to keep an eye out for the security guard. He walked up and down the aisles in his sharp uniform and his shiny shoes. Why was he always frowning at her? She wasn’t doing anything wrong. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t afford the machines. Ever since Papa lost his job, there simply wasn’t the money to spare. Keiko looked down whenever the guard passed, making sure she never met his eye.