Oinu Airport Story (8) "I ended up getting a stamp card at the roadside station"

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My name is Kohei Otani.

Recently, I've found a place I frequent.
It's a "roadside station" five minutes by car from my apartment. They sell locally grown vegetables, handmade sweets, pickles, and side dishes. The quality is surprisingly high and well-thought-out, yet the packaging is simple and the prices are cheap.

The local women who run the direct-from-farm corner ask me every time, "Do you have a card?" so I finally ended up getting a stamp card.
On the cover of the card is an illustration of a woman with a huge smile, holding vegetables in both hands.
One stamp for every 500 yen, and once you collect 30 stamps, you get 500 yen off. I wonder what this feeling is.

I basically don't make membership cards, and I don't carry cash either. I always want to stay light. I don't even carry a bag. I want to live empty-handed.
And yet, a stamp card. Collecting stamps and carrying a card around just for a mere 500 yen. This is a total breakdown of my character. I even laugh at myself.

But it's like, "Come again," "I'll come again," "I've come again."
I don't want to disappoint the people here. Maybe that's why I couldn't refuse.

The moment I picked up the Kazuno hormone, a voice flew over from the register.
"Oh my, Mr. Otani! You came again today? Did you come to see me? Hahaha!"
"Wait a minute! He didn't come to see you, he came to see me."
"No, no, it's me. I'll give you one extra stamp."
"You! You're going to make Mr. Otani uncomfortable. If you're going to give an extra one, give it here."

Butter mochi was placed into the small black personal bag I had left at the register.

The people here aren't kind to me because I work for a big company.
It doesn't matter who I am. They see the real me.

I came to the northern Tohoku region on assignment, living away from my family.
Once I lost my title, once I lost my power, everyone from my company and my business partners drifted away.

Even though I'm living away from my family, it's not like I can't go back to my home in Nihonbashi, Tokyo. In fact, there are quite a few people living away from their families who work in the countryside during the week and return to the capital area on weekends. The airport on Friday nights and Monday mornings is crowded with male passengers around my age.

If I wanted to go home, I could spend time in Tokyo two or three times a month. And yet, the reason I don't want to go back is because the person reflected in the train window looks so lonely.

"Mr. Otani, let's all go out for a drink sometime! Everyone says they want to talk to you."
"Just lend me your smartphone for a second. Scan this QR code~"

With a beep, a new icon was added to my smartphone.
It was the moment I exchanged LINE contacts with the woman who leads the direct-from-farm corner.
Huh? Seriously?

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