I don't know what I'm doing.

A random lady just appeared in front of me yesterday and now I am standing in front of an office building.

Not only that, but the office building is all the way at the other side of town, sited at the commercial district. The suburban area is where I usually roam, not to say that this area is alien to me, but it's not my prime either.

I had to take the monorail to travel all the way to this polar opposite region. Again, something not entirely familiar to me. I have had not much need to go so far as to the city. And as an afterthought, I had to cross that dreaded abandoned building to reach the business area where the nearest station was.

So why did I take so much effort to come to a place like this, I ask myself. A little too late, but I still ask.

Some lady, well since I know her name now I should refer to her as Yuka, handed me a business card. Generally, when one takes a business card, one takes note of the address. And when one takes note of the address, one would have a sliver of thought to note that place as a place of interest. Once a place is noted as a place of interest, that place automatically becomes a place to be visited.

As if I would accept a reason like that. I allow myself to think further. Why did Yuka hand me the card in the first place? "An outlet for all this turmoil" or something she said. Was she hoping to help me? Then again, it was written on the card that she's a private investigator. Why would a private investigator be an outlet for mental turmoil? That sounds more like a psychiatrist's job. Not that I want to visit a psychiatrist, how useful would that be.

Or, since she's a private investigator, she wants me to assist her in the case. Why was she there in the first place? A private investigator has to visit the site of the tragedy herself (I say 'herself' since this is Yuka I am referring to) if she's called onto the case. So was she employed by somebody related to the victim? I push that thought process aside as it is currently irrelevant.

But how would I be able to assist her? Well, since I practically confessed to her that I was a witness to the tragedy, perhaps she was hoping that I could shed new light onto the case, a light the current authorities do not possess. Then why didn't she just tell me to tell the police? Oh right, because she's a private investigator, a practitioner who is separate from the arms of the law. Or, a more plausible reason would be that she's really on the case and would like me to assist her and her alone. Moreover, how much would the police believe me if I told them? If anything, it would make me a suspect, trying to make up an alibi to clear myself even though the police aren't after me.

So I satisfy myself that she wishes to aid me by getting me to aid her. Still, why would I agree to something like that? Did I really think she would help me? How would she possibly help me? I tell her my problem and I feel better? Then I might as well visit a psychiatrist!

But she's a private investigator. I tell her my problem and she solves it.

She solves the case. And I would feel better?

I saw the girl die in front of me. I failed to help her at that moment. Although she was probably already dead, I could have informed the police earlier than the homeless guy. And now there's a chance that I can involve myself in this case.

And that makes me feel better? Somehow, yes.

Knowing my tendency to completely ignore my sense of time, I probably stood in front of the office building for 15 minutes or longer in thought. Long enough to garner glances from passersby as I stand in the middle of the walkway unmoving for so long. The afternoon sun rises calmly above me.

Since I'm already here, might as well go in.