1 || How Do You Say Almond Milk?

                                    

                                          
I WISH I COULD say what I want. 
A large, sugar-free vanilla latte with almond milk. 
That's it. This shouldn't be that hard.
The man stares at me from behind the counter. His jet-black hair falls into his eyes, but it fails to hide the confusion on his face as he tries to interpret my poor excuse for Japanese.
"Mi-ruk-u? Eh. Toun-yuu?" 
He squints. His lips thin as he tightens his mouth. I can tell he feels bad for me. 
Or maybe he just wants to laugh and is trying really hard to be polite? 
Could be either, honestly. 
We both know that whatever I looked up on Google before I walked into this tiny café makes absolutely no sense coming out of my mouth.
Poor, little confused American, he thinks. What are you doing here?
Good question, I'm starting to wonder that myself.
Maybe I should have just walked into a touristy Starbucks where they would have been willing to suffer my English instead of listening to the rabble that is now coming out of my mouth.
"Uh. Ma-cha?" I abandon my frothy latte dreams in favor of the hot green tea as a line begins to build up behind me. The size of the shop is already small enough as it is without me holding up a crowd.
The man nods his head, happy to finally be able to ring me out on the register. I hand him the folded up yen in my wallet. The money feels unfamiliar between my fingers  — two days is apparently not long enough to get used to the colorful notes in my purse.
The steamy drink comes out a couple minutes later and I take my pity-tea toward the rows of booths in the back of the shop, away from the chaotic sounds of the city. Once I find a secluded enough area, I slide myself across one of the seats. The cushy faux-leather squeaks against my skin just like the benches of the Roosevelt Café in New York.
A quiet sigh escapes my lips.
My mind feels flooded. Like I'm going through sensory overload.
I probably should have just invited Jalen to come here with me. I mistakenly thought that the anxious feeling would ease once I got up and explored a bit of Tokyo on my own.
Now that I'm out here, I'm not so sure it was a good idea.
I slide on my noise-canceling headphones and hear the beep of the Bluetooth connection. Automatically the melancholy sounds of Thom Yorke pulse through the speakers. Soft notes of the piano swim back and forth through my mind. My eyes close slowly in response and the world all of a sudden feels a little lighter as the chords dance methodically in my ears. 

                            
                              
                                
                                
                              
                            
                            
                          
You're happy about this, I tell myself. This is going to be good. 
Penny's face flashes in my mind as if my brain is trying telling me otherwise. The memory of her bright blue eyes squinting as she smiles flashes through my mind.
It'll only be a month. Or maybe two, I remind myself.
I don't understand what's causing this nervous buzz to settle under my skin.
I've always loved traveling. This isn't the first time my job has sent me to a different country and it sure as hell won't be the last. 
But, the work trips I took before were never this long. A week or two, at most. And I was usually there with a larger team, not just one other person. I'm surprised we even got this project assignment when I would hardly call either of us fluent in the native language, even though Jalen claimed to be.