OifulAprilm,onanarrowsidestreetinTokyosfashionableHarujukuneighborhood,Iwalkedpastthe100%perfectgirl.

    Tellyouthetruth,shesnotthatgood-looking.Shedoesntstandoutinanyway.Herclothesarenothingspecial.Thebackofherhairisstillbentoutofshapefromsleep.Sheisntyouher-mustbehirty,notevenclosetoa"girl,"properlyspeaking.Butstill,Iknowfromfiftyyardsaway:Shesthe100%perfectgirlforme.ThemomentIseeher,theresarumblinginmychest,andmymouthisasdryasadesert.

    Maybeyouhaveyourownparticularfavoritetypeofgirl-ohslimankles,say,eyes,racefulfingers,oryouredrawnfoodreasontogirlswhotaketheirtimewitheverymeal.Ihavemyownpreferences,ofcourse.SometimesiaurantIllcatchmyselfstaringatthegirlattheabletominebecauseIliketheshapeofhernose.

    Butnoonesistthathis100%perfectgirlcorrespondtosomepreceivedtype.MuchasIlikenoses,Itrecalltheshapeofhers-orevenifshehadone.AllIrememberforsureisthatshewasbeauty.Itsweird.

    "YesterdayoreetIpassedthe100%girl,"Itellsomeone.

    "Yeah?"hesays."Good-looking?"

    "Notreally."

    "Yourfavoritetype,then?"

    "Idontknow.Itseemtorememberanythingabouther-theshapeofhereyesorthesizeofherbreasts."

    "Strange."

    "Yeah.Strange."

    "Soanyhow,"hesays,alreadybored,"whatdidyoudo?Talktoher?Followher?"

    "Nah.Justpassedheroreet."

    Sheswalkiowest,aoeast.ItsareallyniceAprilm.

    WishIcouldtalktoher.Halfanhourwouldb