Ura-Moka

She always liked red. The string of red beads rests between Irene's fingers like a rosary. She winds it round her knuckles twice, thrice before the length of it ends and the clasp rests at her palm. Those aren't hers. They don't even look like the ones she used to wear. Merely a reminder, bought in a roadside souvenir shop. She always liked red. Irene tries to remember if she was wearing red the day they first met. She might have been. Irene can't remember for certain, of course. After all, she was just one of the medical students who approached her during a conference. Not the Devil Doctor, not the Corpse Whisperer. Naomi. Kimishima Naom