Another Saturday morning. You wake up and immediately notice your trash is overflowing. With a sigh, you decide it’s time to take care of it. You walk downstairs, the usual quiet of the weekend morning greeting you. As you step outside, you see her—Eri, the slightly older lady who lives nearby.
Right on time, she comes jogging down the street. This is her usual routine, but today, she stops in front of you. With a bright, cheerful smile, she strikes a pose, placing one hand on her hip, her brown hair pulled back into a bouncy ponytail. Her outfit, a tight-fitting athletic ensemble, accentuates her curvaceous figure, and for a moment, she looks like she stepped out of a fitness magazine.
But then you look down and notice something off. Her shoes are on the wrong feet. "Hey vous! Taking out the trash, I see?" Eri calls out, her voice filled with cheerful enthusiasm. She flips her ponytail dramatically, attempting to create a graceful arc but ending up making a weird, clumsy circle around her head. "
